


Last Friday Night

by Idwff



Series: Meet Me At The Finish Line [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Bittersweet Ending, Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Homophobic Language, Humor, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Please Don't Kill Me, Racing, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sexual Content, Slight brief non-con, Smut, brief Adam/Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 102,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idwff/pseuds/Idwff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a drag racer and Castiel finds him fascinating. He watches in secret as the green-eyed stranger speeds his way around the hidden lake track every Friday night. That is, until he finds out they attend the same university.</p><p>[Finished Work]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Explicit rating for later chapters.  
> -I'm predicting between 20-30 chapters (also there will be a sequel), however, continuation will be based on reactions/reviews of each chapter. This is my first fic so all comments are appreciated to let me know how I'm doing.  
> -Entire fic is already outlined, BUT I will listen to suggestions from readers if they have something they'd like to see (and they'll be tagged in the chapter if I use the suggestion) and I will be posting weekly or bi-weekly depending on feedback.  
> -Occasionally beta'd by a friend, some chapters will be posted without revision though.  
> -ALSO, there will be a bunch of stuff about cars in this story, I'm researching things best I can before writing about them, but if I'm very obviously wrong about something and you know junk about cars feel free to message me so I can correct it!  
> -I SINCERELY HOPE YOU ENJOY.

He had already flown well past the triple digits; driving this fast wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Dean Winchester. Speed came naturally to him, and it was no surprise when he started winning damn near every race he entered with his father's old 67' Impala. That car had been to hell and back in all the years his dad drove it. When John Winchester finally handed the keys to Dean on his sixteenth birthday, he devoted his life to rebuilding that fine piece of machinery from the ground up. It looked and ran like new and Dean was often caught looking at the car with a deep sort of reverence that most people normally saved for their lovers or first born children.

Now he was practically purring along with the engine; body thrumming with excitement as he raced over the long expanse of pavement stretched out before him. He looked into his rearview mirror and smirked. The other driver was just fading headlights in the distance and though he was not catching up any time soon Dean found himself pushing harder against the gas pedal. His heartbeat accelerated with every forward movement of the speedometer. 125.....130.....135....140...

 

Dean jolted awake, a cold sweat covering his entire body. He smiled at his still-hammering heart and let out a deep, contented sigh. He'd only have to wait until nightfall to make his dreams a reality. It was Friday, and Friday nights were drag nights.


	2. Chapter 2

Normally Castiel Novak loved Greek Mythology. Hell, that was why he had chosen to take this course to begin with. It was considered an elective for his degree program and he certainly didn’t HAVE to take it, but he’d thought perhaps it would be fun to take the literature and lore he had already known and dissect its meanings and importance with other like-minded people. That was until he’d entered the lecture hall and found that only 13 other students were taking the course and the instructor herself didn’t even seem to be that interested. At the start of every class she would pair off the students and have them read classic Greek literature or study a piece of art dedicated to a Titan or a God. There were no lectures and no discussions; only book reading and worksheets. It was only three weeks into the semester and he already hated the woman. Today, especially.

 The professor, whose name Castiel refused to learn, pushed her glasses lazily up to the bridge of her nose. “Okay, I’ll be putting you into new partnerships today,” she stopped when the entire class groaned. “Oh stop. You’ll all like this assignment, I swear.”              

 _I find that to be highly unlikely, you assbutt._ Castiel thought sourly to himself.

She continued, “I want you and your partner to take some time together away from this classroom and research some of the more popular figures in Greek mythological culture. I’d like you to pick one singular figure, whether it be a God or Goddess, a Titan, even one of the Olympians. I want you and your partner, in your own words, to describe the figure’s struggle and what carved their place in Greek culture. I’m not asking for much, just a co-written essay, 2000 words minimum.”

Castiel raised his hand and she nodded to him. “Yes, Mr….?”

 “Novak,” he replied. “Castiel Novak. May we choose to do our assignment on a creature instead of a God or Titan?”

 “Any particular one in mind, Mr. Novak?”

He nodded. “Medusa.”

She pursed her lips for a moment and then gave a slight nod. “Interesting. I’ll allow it if your partner agrees.”

Castiel was pleased, for once. Even more so when she began putting people into partnerships. He was paired with Chuck Shurley; a nervous English major with a constant paranoid look in his eyes. Shaky exterior aside, though, Chuck was a decent partner. They’d been paired together on their first assignment in that course and they had worked very well together, neither one forcing the other to do more than their fair share of work. Upon hearing their names called, Chuck looked at Castiel and nodded. When they’re professor dismissed them for the day, he walked up to Chuck with a polite smile.

“Hello Chuck,” he greeted.

“Heya Cas. So Medusa, huh?” Chuck looked interested, thankfully.

Castiel nodded. “I have always been interested in her story. When you see movies like Clash of the Titans and that God awful Percy Jackson movie, all you see is what she was turned into. She wasn’t always a snake-headed psychopath and people that don’t bother to learn her history will only ever see her as a monster.” Chuck was nodding enthusiastically, an almost impressed look on his face. “Anyway, perhaps we should exchange phone numbers so we can arrange a time to work together.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Chuck replied, digging his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Castiel so he could enter his number. “I’m, uh, free for the rest of the day if you don’t have any other classes to get to. We could get started early.”

Castiel nodded. “That would be acceptable. My next class is not until three.”

“Okay, man. Do you mind walking to my dorm with me? I can pick up my laptop and we’ll head over to the library.”

Castiel murmured his consent and they walked in a companionable silence across the campus lawn to the east side dormitories.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been to this side of the campus,” Castiel said as he looked around at the buildings. “I live in the west dorms and there are no technical buildings this far out so I’ve never had any reason.”

Chuck laughs as they walk toward the student parking lot in front of one of the residence halls. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. I’m the same way. I’ve never been down by your dorms either now that I think about it. If you walk past all of these residence halls and cross that street back there, there’s this killer local coffee place. That’s where I usually go to write when my roommate is passed out cold, snoring like a bear in hibernation. It’s actually pretty funny. You can tell when he’s really exhausted because he mumbles in his sleep and—“

Castiel was listening to Chuck, he _was_ , but that was until he spotted the familiar sleek gleam of his favorite car out of the corner of his eye. His feet stopped moving and he vaguely registered that Chuck was still walking ahead and talking like he had no idea that Castiel was no longer by his side. One glance at the license plate had confirmed that this was indeed the same 1967 Chevy Impala that Castiel had watched win races week after week after week at the track by the lake.

 When he had obtained his driver's permit at fifteen, Castiel’s older brother Michael had begun dragging Castiel out on Friday nights to the outskirts of Milford Lake where a manmade track that was only God knows how many decades old was used for drag races. Michael raced so many times while Castiel had stood in the crowd, waiting and watching. Upon his inevitable victory, Michael would proceed to get absolutely obliterated and need Castiel to be his designated driver. He was sworn to secrecy and given twenty dollars every week as hush money. Castiel loved his brother, he really did, but he will always remember that sudden spark of unmistakable glee when someone FINALLY beat him. The car he’d won in was nothing to write home about, but the driver was only about as old as Castiel himself! The boy behind the wheel didn’t race again for months, but when he finally did come back it was in this big, beautiful black car that his feet were currently refusing to let him walk away from. Michael had graduated high school shortly after that and moved to L.A., leaving the boy who beat him to become the new unrivaled legend at the track. Castiel still went to the races almost every Friday, but he had never grown out of the habit of watching from the sidelines. He didn’t partake in the drinking or the merriment, and he most certainly didn’t go the more desperate route of trying to give the winner some victory action. Most nights he preferred to stay in his car and watch the race from his front window. Maybe it was because he was a little bit awkward in social situations, maybe it was to avoid having to talk to “car people” when he knew nothing about them, or maybe it was because the boy who had taken over Michael’s legacy was absolutely beautiful and he downright loved to watch him race. But never in a million years did Castiel think that this guy, whose name he still didn’t know, would actually attend the same university as him.

Finally, Chuck seemed to notice he was talking to himself when he almost reached the front door of the hall. He backtracked over to where Castiel was standing and looked at the Impala, confused.

“What’s up, Cas?” He asked.

“This car,” Castiel replied. “This car is the single most wonderful piece of racing machinery ever built. I watch this car race every week.”

“What?” Chuck’s face was scrunched in confusion.

“My brother, Michael, he used to race a couple of cities away at some hidden track by a lake. I still go to the lake on the weekends and watch the races, I have been for years. The guy who owns this car is the best driver they have out there on drag nights.”

“No way, man. Dean doesn’t race. He spends every weekend at his parent’s house.”

Castiel’s eyes bulged. “You KNOW him?”

Chuck nodded, “Dean’s my roommate, Cas. I should tell him what you said about the car though. He likes this thing more than he likes most people, I think.”

“You...Dean is your roommate?” Chuck nodded. “You live with the man who drives this vehicle?” Chuck nodded again. “Sweet baby Jesus.”

“What does our infant Lord and Savior have to do with my roommate?”

“Chuck, have you SEEN him drive? It’s amazing. I get an adrenaline rush just watching the things he can do in this car. I just-I-I don’t know. He’s fast and the races are, I don’t know, glorious. You should come with me one week. It is very exciting.”

“You’re sure this is him? I mean, he’s never mentioned these races to me. Never mentioned racing at all to me, actually.”

Castiel nodded, “I’m sure. I’d never forget this car.” Suddenly embarrassed by that admission, Castiel started to walk away from the residence hall. “I’m going to meet you at the library, okay?”

He turned and started walking back the way they’d come, speeding his steps when he heard Chuck walk into his building and shut the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing to assault Dean’s senses upon standing up is the squelching of day old pizza beneath his foot when he stands from his bed. Normally Dean’s roommate, Chuck, wasn’t such a bad guy to live with. He was smart, polite, quiet, and most of all he minded his own damn business. For the first few weeks of their first semester at KU Dean and Chuck co-resided in perfect harmony, but that was only until their teenage normalcy settled in and both inhabitants’ true colors began to shine through. Chuck was still a great guy, but he was panic-stricken and anxious on his best days and it turns out, when the dude gets comfortable in his living space, he’s a total and complete slob. Their dorm room was constantly littered with empty beer cans, day or two old takeout boxes, and Dean swears Chuck couldn’t figure out how to work a washing machine to save his life so Dean always ended up hauling both of the boys’ clothes to the community laundry room in the basement and back. But still, Chuck did have his redeeming qualities. When Dean was struggling to write an essay or assignment in his required introductory English classes during their first year, Chuck was always right by his side to help him reach his word count or properly explain all of the reasons why Simon was a Christ-like figure in Lord of the Flies.

It was times like this, however, with pizza sauce between his toes and hard cheese stuck to the bottom of his foot, that Dean was finding it hard to be pleased with his roommate.

“Dammit Chuck,” he muttered as he scraped the food from the sole of his foot.

As if on cue, Chuck returned from his early morning class. He immediately grimaced at the mess on Dean’s skin and mumbled an apology.

“Sorry about that, Dean.” He said while he emptied his backpack. “I was positive that I put that plate on my nightstand before I left.”

“Not a problem, I guess. Just…just be more careful.”

“Right,” Chuck sat on his small bed facing Dean and frowning. He had a look of deep concentration on his face that he normally only wore when he was four tallboy cans of PBR in and typing furiously on his latest literary conquest.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hey, uh, Chuck? You pluckin’ up the courage to ask for my hand in marriage or what, man? I don’t like the way you’re looking at me.”

Chuck shook himself out of his reverie and frowned. “N-no, no! Sorry, man. No. Uh, I was just wondering what your plans are for today.”

Dean just shrugged as he went to the other side of their room to collect his shower things. “Well, it’s Friday so I have Chem 2 and Workshop. Same as every Friday, Chuck, you know my schedule.”

“Sure,” Chuck nodded. “I was thinking more like tonight. Any big plans for the weekend?”

Dean stopped. Of course he had big plans for the weekend. He had big plans every weekend. Every Friday evening after Workshop he’d drive his favorite piece of machinery out to a lake just outside of Junction City and smoke all the competition on the racetrack that generations and generations of this secret little society had built. They were a competitive bunch, sure, but it was an easygoing crowd at the races and since they didn’t race for cash or valuables, everyone was generally good natured; win or lose.

 

 

Dean was thirteen when he witnessed his first drag race up at their manmade track. His father, in a fit of nostalgia, had driven Sam and Dean to what he thought was a long abandoned race track so they could see where their dear old dad used to party when he was young. What John Winchester hadn’t anticipated was a whole new generation of teenagers to be drinking beer from a keg and racing all different kinds of cars; the current race between some small Mitsubishi and a well taken care of fox body Mustang that had to have been older than both of his sons combined. Upon discovering the old track was still in use, John immediately made to drive right past and take the boys somewhere else until Dean all but screamed and pressed every possible surface of his body against the passenger’s side window and stared with wide eyes and an enormous grin. Sam, ever the incorrigible younger brother, followed Dean’s lead from the back seat and plastered his face to the window and stared at the speeding cars. John caved, just as he always did, and pulled the car a safe distance away from the proceedings. That day Sam, Dean, and John sat on the hood of the Impala with sodas in hand watching the races until it was well past both boys’ bedtime. From that moment on, cars were the only thing Dean cared about. He spent his free time during the school year building engines and reading auto magazines, and his summers were spent helping his Uncle Bobby out at his garage. It wasn’t until two years later when Dean and his friend Ash Miles, the first of his friends to turn 16 and obtain a driver’s license, pulled the old switcheroo on their parents. Dean told John he was staying at Ash’s house while Ash left his mom a note about staying the night with Dean. When the sun went down the boys crammed themselves and their just-for-show overnight bags into Ash’s 95’ firebird along with Jo Harvelle, Ash’s next door neighbor and Dean's best friend since he was born, who threatened to out them to their parents if they didn’t let her tag along. Her mom always worked at her family’s bar until well past three a.m. so she didn’t even need to sneak around, the lucky little she-devil.

They still kept their distance from the track for months, only watching from afar because Dean and Jo were still only fifteen years old. They didn’t want to risk getting turned away or worse because they weren’t legal to drive yet. When Dean finally turned sixteen, he, Ash, and Jo sat on the hood of the firebird watching the races like always until Ash tossed Dean the keys. He just looked at Ash in confusion until his friend tilted his head toward the track. He wanted Dean to race. The firebird was well over a decade old, a hand-me-down gift from Ash’s uncle, but it was in pristine condition thanks to Dean. Being the only friend with a car, Ash had always allowed Dean to practice working on it in exchange for free tune ups and oil changes. After a thousand excuses as to why he shouldn’t race (like, oh, if he happened to wreck Ash’s car Mrs. Miles would murder him with her bare hands and then his own father would revive him only to kill him a second time.) he finally took the keys and drove the car up to the track. Ash and Jo stayed behind to watch, camped out on a blanket underneath a nearby tree because Jo was still fifteen for a few more weeks. Everyone stared at him when he asked who was up next to race, and a few people even laughed. A tall, lean boy of about eighteen told him that he was a little too young to be on the track and suggested that he should “scurry along home.” Dean recognized him as the guy Jo had so creatively named “Hottie Dukes” because he drove an orange 1969 Dodge Charger that looked just like The General Lee and had all three teens drooling over the magnificent framework. (Okay, so maybe Dean and Jo were giving equal appreciation to the car AND the driver. Hottie Dukes _was_ pretty hot.) He raced every single Friday and he won every time. So Dean did what any responsible, fresh faced and newly licensed sixteen year old would do; he challenged him to a race. He remembers clutching the steering wheel so hard the bones of his knuckles threatened to break through the skin. He had already resigned himself to the fact that he was going to lose, but he was going to make sure he lost by nothing more than a car’s length. His dignity could handle being a close second to the best driver they’ve got.

At first the speed was deafening. He was tempted to slow down just from the sheer horror of his blood pumping adrenaline-hot in his ears. Halfway around the track, he risked a glance to the side and was completely shocked to find that he was neck-in-neck with Hottie Dukes (and he immediately regretted not learning the guy’s real name because, well, come on. ) and from the look on his face, he hadn’t realized how close Dean had gotten either. And then it hit him. Duke is driving a _Charger_. Charger Charger Charger. He’d helped his Uncle Bobby work on a ton of Chargers and they weighed a fair bit more than Ash’s vehicle. He estimated that Duke’s car had at least an extra three to four hundred pounds on the firebird so Dean was practically light as a feather in the trusty old Bird. He backed off the gas pedal, just barely, hoping Duke would mistake his slightly slowed pace as a resignation. Dean took a deep breath and waited until they were less than a mile from the finish. It was closing in fast and he was two car lengths behind Duke, whose pace had also slowed slightly when he noticed Dean fall behind. A quarter mile from the finish line Dean floored the gas pedal, topping out the speedometer and rocketing himself past his very, very flustered opponent. He remembers sitting in Ash’s car, fingers still gripped on the steering wheel, hyperventilating. He won. It was a loud shriek that finally forced him up out of the driver’s seat and into the cool night air. He looked toward the sound only to see Jo and Ash on the outskirts of the lake by the track jumping up and down screaming at the top of their lungs. It was the only noise permeating the air aside from the rumbling of the two cars. All of the spectators by the starting line were staring; silent and slack-jawed. Finally, Duke exited his car and made his way toward Dean. At first he was afraid the guy would be mad. Maybe he’d be going home with a black eye or a split lip, but as he got closer Dean noticed a slight smirk on the dude’s face.

When he was standing in front of Dean, he offered his hand and spoke to him again, this time as an equal.

“You did good, kid. I’m Michael.”

 

 

“Uh, Dean?”

Chuck’s voice had snapped Dean back to the present and he shook himself to clear the slight fog in his head.

“I’m just doing the same thing I do every Friday, y’know? I’m gonna go stay with my folks and hang out with my little brother. Why do you ask?”

It’s not that Dean didn’t _want_ to hang out with Chuck, but the situation had never really called for it before. They’d been roommates for about two years now and they’d always managed a pleasant cohabitance, but never a relationship outside. They had two very different groups of friends and their complete opposite degree programs made sure they never had any classes together. The most contact they had outside of their dorm was occasionally walking across campus together, nodding or waving to the other in passing, and once they had managed to find one another at a frat party and drunkenly stumble to a local diner together to get some burgers before heading home and tumbling into their separate beds to sleep off their inebriation.

Chuck looked at the floor, his leg bouncing nervously, and he was visibly chewing on the inside of his cheek. When he opened his mouth to speak, he still hadn’t looked up at Dean.

“Can…can I. Uh,” he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Can I please come watch you race? I think it’s really cool that you race and I’m sorry that I figured it out because you were obviously trying to keep it a secretandIreallyreallywanttocomeIthinkitsoundsawesome.”

Dean was torn between the utter shock of Chuck finding out about the races and the strong urge to laugh; because by the end of Chuck’s statement, he was pretty sure that no actually words were coming out, just high pitched, terrified squeals.

“I…you...how? How did you find out?” Dean asked. He had always been careful about keeping the track under wraps. Sure, drag racing wasn’t up there with manslaughter or anything, but it was still illegal. Really illegal. The track was close to Milford Lake, but it was just far enough away from residential housing and given just the right amount of cover from the trees that outsiders were either unbothered or unaware of its existence.

Chuck looked up, “I have this friend, Castiel, in my Greek Mythology class. He was walking here with me and he recognized your car. He, uh,” Chuck huffed out a laugh. “He kinda has a thing for your car. I believe he said it was the most wonderful piece of machinery ever made or something to that effect.”

“Damn right,” Dean said with a smile. “I, uh, I didn’t think anyone from KU even knew about the races. I mean, it’s like an hour and a half outside of the city. He race too?”

Chuck shook his head. “Cas told me that his brother used to race before he moved. He used to come along to watch.”

“Sounds like my brother and me. He tell you his brother’s name?” Dean asked, curious. Maybe he knew the guy, but the name Castiel or Cas didn’t sound familiar.

“Yeah, uh, I think he said his name was Michael or something.”

Dean stopped. “No shit. Never even knew Mikey had a little brother. I guess that’s not a big surprise though. I never actually stayed for the after party until college. I used to just race once and go home back in high school because I was afraid of getting caught out too late.”

Chuck laughed, finally relaxing a bit. “So, do you think maybe…you know, if it’s not a big deal…maybe I could come watch one day? I mean, I think it sounds really awesome. Castiel says it’s very exciting.”

“Sure, man. Could you hitch a ride with your friend tonight? I sort of have a full car already. I really do go to my parent’s house after the races and I’ve got my brother and a few friends from back home riding with me.”

Chuck shoved his laptop in his backpack and nodded. “Sure, Dean. I’m headed over to the library to work on our project anyway so I’ll ask him then.”

Dean nodded and made for the door. He really needed to shower before his Chem 2 class. Especially before the fourth floor freshman used all the hot water.

“Oh, and Dean?” Chuck called before he stepped out the door. Dean looked back. “Thanks, man. You know, for being cool about it.”

He nodded again and shut the door, padding down the hallway to the community bathroom. He was surprisingly unbothered by the thought of Chuck coming to the races. It’s not that he doesn’t like the guy or anything, but he gets nervous when people he knows outside the track watch him race. The only exceptions to that rule are Sammy, Ash, and Jo because they’ve been there since the beginning. He finds comfort in their familiarity now that he hangs back to enjoy the after parties.

Suddenly, while the shampoo runs from his hair down to his shoulders, he wonders about Michael’s younger brother. Almost immediately he wonders if he’s hot like Michael, and he shuts down that thought process before it can even start. Dean’s sexuality is not fluid. He is not out bedding all kinds of folks, male and female alike. And he is most certainly not a slut, he’s a God’s honest virgin for fuck sake! He’s never been interested in girls and no guy has ever interested him _enough_ , but he’s fooled around with a fair amount of guys from KU without wanting to add another to the list.

Tonight will surely be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

After three hours of work at the campus library, Chuck and Castiel had left with a novel’s worth of research and plans to meet after Castiel’s last class. From there they were going to make their way to the races together. At nine-thirty that evening, Chuck found himself awkwardly twirling his thumbs in the passenger’s seat of Castiel’s blue Honda. They had been in the car for just under an hour and only a handful of words had been exchanged. Castiel, oblivious to the awkward silence, had a look of pure serenity on his face as he drove and gently nodded his head to Jakob Dylan crooning through the car speakers.

“So,” Chuck started, unable to take the silence any longer. “What exactly do you do while you’re at the race? Dean…he, uh, he mentioned some kind of party.”

Castiel nodded and chewed his lower lip for a moment before speaking.

“Yes, the bystanders typically engage in a fair amount of drinking while the drivers are competing. I myself have never participated, but I will not think less of you if you’d like to join them.”

Chuck shrugged. “I’m not really a fan of drinking around people I don’t know, so I’ll probably just watch. The others that come to watch, are they…are they pretty laidback?”

“I’m afraid I do not know.” Castiel responded. “I haven’t properly attended the after party since I was seventeen years old. When Michael went to college I lost my only reason for socializing among the crowd, so I prefer to stay in my vehicle and watch these days.”

Chuck nodded and silence overtook the car once more. The rest of the ride was short and soon they were pulling onto a long dirt road surrounded by a small, but thick forest of pine trees. Through the sparse clearing between tree trunks, Chuck could see a large lake. The road wound around the edges of the body of water and Castiel slowed down just as they approached an old yellow fence. The thick bars of the fence door were open, revealing a much narrower dirt road. From the old broken sign hanging off one of the bars of the fence, it was clear that they were trespassing on private property. The trees were impossibly thicker around this road and Chuck continued to glance around nervously.

“There is no need to worry, Chuck,” Castiel said with a polite smile. “Your body language suggests that you are averse to the idea of trespassing, but I can assure you that this is completely safe.  I have been coming to this track nearly every Friday for the last four years and there have never been any instances of trouble. From what my brother told me, the police haven’t suspected or cared about races on this track since the eighties. “

“Th-that’s good, I guess.” Chuck responded. “Looks like all this forest gives us plenty of privacy too. Can you even see the cars race through all the pine?”

“This is not the racetrack, Chuck,” Castiel said with a small chuckle. He pointed out the front window. “The track is up there.”

Chuck looked to where Castiel was pointing and he saw an opening at the end of the narrow road. The opening was dark, but a thin sheen of light outlining the last of the trees gave the impression that there were lampposts or heavy duty lanterns somewhere outside the threshold of the forest. After another few moments, they drove past the last of the trees and over a well-driven dirt path that led to the edge of the lake.  A long line of parked cars were lined up on the grass, many with their headlights on. The lights illuminated the huge field, drawing Chuck’s attention to the mass of bodies already present at the track. There were at least thirty people in various stages of inebriation and another handful of stone cold sober attendees. About thirty yards away from the line of cars, there were two other stray cars parked by the beginning of a battered, concrete road with a bright yellow line painted directly down the middle. Castiel pointed out the young men standing next to the isolated cars and told Chuck that those were two frequent racers at the track and they were waiting for Dean to show up. Neither Chuck nor Castiel could identify the make or model of their cars. Chuck could not because he simply didn’t _do_ cars, and Castiel could not identify the machines because there were only two cars in this universe that he gave one wit about; his own deep blue Honda Fit, and the lustrous black Impala that was currently absent from the area. Finally, Castiel parked at the end of the long line of cars and turned off his engine.

He twirled his keys in his hands and looked at Chuck. “Would you like to go join the others?”

Chuck shrugged. “I-I think I’d rather wait here for Dean, if that’s okay with you. When do the races normally start?”

“They do not have a specific time frame. They begin racing after all of the drivers have arrived. I imagine it will not be much longer now.”

Castiel knew that Dean would arrive shortly, because he’d watched him pull up to the track at exactly ten forty-five every night for the last four years. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he had only one companion with him, but most times Dean would climb out of the driver’s seat and three other bodies would clamber out after him. The newest addition to Dean Winchester’s clan was a tall, skinny boy with floppy, too-long brown hair and an ever-present dimpled grin. He had only been attending the races with Dean for the last year. Castiel saw the way that Dean would ruffle the boy’s hair and swat at the back of his head, like Michael had once done to him. This lead Castiel to assume that the boy was Dean’s younger, but taller, brother. Chuck had confirmed his suspicions in the library that afternoon, saying that Dean had admitted to bringing his brother with him on Fridays. The other two people that accompanied him looked to be about Dean’s age. One was a pretty blonde girl with an extremely sweet smile and an equally wicked glare that Castiel had seen her throw at a select few rowdy male party goers that had gotten a little too frisky with her. The other was a rustic, mullet-bearing young man with an intense adoration for keg stands. Once during a particularly humid summer, Castiel had left his car window down for the duration of the race and heard people continuously refer to this young man as “Dr. Badass.” Although he is the first to admit that he is slightly socially inept, it was fairly obvious even to Castiel that Dean’s two friends had been playing a flirtatious game of cat-and-mouse since they were young. Although the feisty little blonde could clearly handle unsavory situations, “Dr. Badass” still made a point to get right in the face of the offender with a threatening glint in his eye and a few choice words that Castiel could never actually hear. The girl always gave an annoying huff and rolled her eyes as if to convey that she was perfectly able to take care of herself, but even from a distance Castiel caught the tiny brief smile that graced her lips afterward.

The two boys sat in a comfortable silence inside Castiel’s car for another few moments before they both spotted Dean’s car easing into place beside the other two. Chuck immediately reached for the door handle but stilled as soon as he noticed that Castiel wasn’t moving.

“You coming, man?” he asked.

Castiel just shook his head lightly. “I don’t believe so, but thank you. Those are your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Chuck glanced over to Dean’s car, watching as his brother and two friends piled out. He half-smiled and looked back to Castiel. “Trust me, Cas, you wouldn’t be intruding. Besides, the only one I know here is Dean. I’ve never met his friends or his brother. It would actually be nice to have you around so I don’t feel like the odd man out.”

Castiel bit at the insides of his cheek for a moment before nodding slightly and reaching for the handle of his own door. Chuck followed suit and together they exited the car and began walking slowly over to where Dean had his squealing blonde friend slung over his left shoulder, twirling her around in circles. Dean didn’t notice their presence until he’d almost caught Chuck right in the face with her foot.

“Hey man!” Dean greeted Chuck with a lopsided smile. He set the dizzy girl back on her feet and she leaned against the boy with the mullet for a moment while she laughed and regained her balance. Everyone else in the small group was looking between Dean and the girl with amused smiles, but Castiel had his head down and was trying _very_ hard not to stare at Dean. After a moment, the temptation to look up became too great because he could feel eyes on him. Once he finally lifted his eyes he found Dean giving him a curious glance. They stared at each other for a moment before finally the green eyed boy in front of him gave Castiel a small smile. Castiel instantly felt heat creeping into his cheeks. The last time Castiel had been anywhere near this close in proximity to the green-eyed boy, he was just that; a boy. When Michael was still around, Castiel saw Dean from across the crowd of people and saw that he was an attractive young man, but it was nothing compared to now. Looking at Dean across an entire field and through his windshield most certainly didn’t do the man justice. He no longer had the slightly rounded jaw of a teenage boy, but a strong, angular jaw that was covered in a rough layer of stubble. Freckles dusted across his nose and cheek bones, leading up to the most brilliant set of green eyes he’d ever seen. Although he knew in the back of his mind that it was scientifically impossible to predict one’s personality based on the color of their irises, Castiel swears he could see mischief, rebelliousness, and fierce loyalty in the bright jade orbs before him.

Dean stretched out his hand. “You must be Cas. Chuck says you come here all the time but I, uh, I don’t really recognize you. I’m his roommate, Dean.”

Castiel stared at Dean’s outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it and nodding. “Yes, I have been coming to these races since I was old enough to drive my inebriated brother home afterward.”

Dean nodded. “Michael was your brother, right?”

“Yes. Once he went to college I saw no need to attend the party since I do not drink. I’ve continued watching the races from my car though. I find them fascinating.”

Dean laughed and gestured to the tall brunette boy standing beside him. “Well, uh, this here is my baby brother Sammy.”

The boy smiled, but not before grumbling. “It’s _Sam,_ Dean. I’m not a baby anymore.”

Dean just waved him off and pointed to his other two friends. “That pretty little firecracker right there is Joanna Beth, and next to her is my deliciously white trash best friend, Ash.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ash interrupted, smoothing his hands down each side of his mullet. “There ain’t nothing white trash about this, man. This hair is all class.”

Dean snorted. “Well, anyway, guys this is my roommate Chuck and I guess this is his friend Casti--…Ca-…uh, Cas. Sorry, I don’t really remember your whole name. ”

“Castiel,” he said quietly.

“What was that?” Dean said moving forward a bit.

Castiel cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice a tad. “I-it’s Castiel. My name is Castiel.”

Dean smiled. “Right. Castiel. Well, uh, we’re probably going to get this show on the road soon so I should go talk to Mitch and Eric about who’s up first. I’ll see you guys after the race.”

After a few awkward moments of silence, Jo finally spoke up. “So, Chuck, you’re Dean’s roommate?” He nodded and she snorted. “I feel real bad for you, man. I know firsthand how bad the dude snores. I really feel for you.”

Both Chuck and Castiel’s eyes widened at that admission. It took a small jolt of laughter from Sam for Jo to realize what she had just said.

“Oh, wait, no,” she said, shaking her head slightly and laughing. “So not what I meant. Like, Dean and I have been friends since we were babies because our parents are friends. We did sleepovers and all that junk when we were kids. I haven’t, like, slept with him or anything. God no. Dude’s like my brother. Even if he wasn’t I ain’t exactly his type, you know.” She made a sweeping gesture across her body and then shrugged.

Castiel frowned. “I’m sure that isn’t true, Joanna. You shouldn’t doubt your loveliness. I find you to be very aesthetically pleasing.”

Jo smiled and patted Castiel on the shoulder. “Well, aren’t you just a little sweetheart? And please, for the love of God, call me Jo. I really appreciate the flattery and all, ya little stud, but that’s not exactly what I meant when I said I’m not Dean’s type. I’m afraid I just don’t have the right equipment, if ya know what I mean.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped before he could stop it. “Dean is…Dean is gay?”

Jo immediately tensed and all traces of humor left her face. Castiel was vaguely aware of Sam and Ash’s shoulders going taut in the background. “That’s not a problem, is it?” She asked.

“N-no! No, that isn’t an issue at all,” he replied with a faint blush. “It would be rather self-deprecating for me to dislike homosexuals.”

The mood visibly relaxed and a slow, almost creepy grin began to stretch across Jo’s face.

“What?” Castiel squeaked as he tried to physically shrink his body in on itself.

“Oh nothing,” she said with a shrug. “It’s just now that I know you’re also manfully inclined, all that eye-fucking you two were doing a minute ago makes a whole lot more sense.”

Jo, Sam, and Ash all snickered, Chuck choked on air, and Castiel felt what _had_ to be all the blood in his entire body rush to his face.

“W-what?! I didn’t-I wasn’t! I…I…” Castiel choked out. Finally he grabbed the lapels of his heavy wool pea coat and wrapping it tighter around his body like a shield. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Where might I procure an alcoholic beverage?”

Chuck’s face twisted in confusion. “I thought you said you don’t drink.”

“Well, I believe I’d like to start.”

Chuck nodded his head and he and Castiel began walking away from the group with a promise to return in a moment.

“I don’t know where they’d keep the booze at this kind of thing either but we’re smart guys, right Cas? Can’t be too hard for us to find.”

Castiel smiled, very grateful in that moment for Chuck’s easygoing friendship. Together they wandered over to where a large group of people had congregated around a metal trash can full of flaming newspaper.

“Good idea,” Chuck thought aloud. “It is pretty nippy out here.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “This is new for me as well. I’m used to watching from the confines of my car with the heat blaring and my own music. “

“You said you come out here every Friday to watch people race, right? Even in the winter?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. The ice doesn’t affect the track out here. Someone, one of the racers I imagine, usually salts the track throughout the winter. The after party is significantly shorter in cold temperatures and sometimes the races are cancelled if the ice overpowers their prevention methods. We haven’t really had very prevalent winters over the last few years.”

Chuck was about to respond when a random patron from the crowd started to scream. At first neither of the two could understand what the guy was screaming until the rest of the crowd joined in. All of the sudden, thirty inebriated bodies were chanting “Dr. Badass” at the top of their lungs and Ash ran past Chuck and Castiel, straight into the crowd, where two burly looking jocks immediately lifted him from the ground. The two boys watched Dean’s rustic companion get tipped upside down and ingest an obscene amount of beer straight from the keg.

“Well,” Chuck said. “I guess we found the keg.”

Castiel made a small ‘hmm’ noise and the two began walking toward the group again. They had to wait a few minutes in a line of other patrons, but soon enough both boys had their own red party cups filled to the brim with cheap beer. Just as Castiel was about to take his first sip, a dainty hand yanked the red cup from his grip and he looked up with a frown.

Jo was standing beside him, holding his cup just out of reach. “Look, I’m sorry about teasing you back there. That whole, ya know, ‘eye-fucking’ thing was supposed to be a joke. I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I guess I shouldn’t make jokes like that after having just met someone.”

“It’s fine,” he replied with a shrug. “Apology accepted. I appreciate the attempt to include me in friendly banter.”

Jo smiled. “You’re a cute little nerd, you know that?”

Castiel tilted his head. “I…thank you?”

He reached for the cup in Jo’s hand but she tugged it out of his reach once more. “If you’re just doing this,” she gave the cup a little shake in her hand, “because you’re nervous, then I am dumping this cup right now. If you’re not a drinker, I’m not going to allow a little misunderstanding to turn you into one, kid.”

“I admit that was my original intent, but” he caught her hand just as she began to tip the cup toward the ground. “ ** _but_** I have given the situation more thought. I am not going to drink because I am nervous, but because I am almost twenty years old and I have attended these parties for the last four years without participating in any of the festivities.”

Jo eyed him wearily for another few moments before finally placing the beer back in Castiel’s hand. She watched as he took a tentative first sip and laughed when his face immediately scrunched up in disgust.

“Perhaps I should begin my introduction to alcoholic beverages with something less…bitter.”

Jo was still shaking with laughter as she took the cup from Castiel’s hands. “Maybe we should start you off with an appletini, princess.”

Castiel could feel himself blush but he smiled nonetheless. Jo was teasing him again, but this time he had been prepared for it. He knew there was no malice in her laughter and he stood by with his hands clasped behind his back as she disappeared into the crowd. She returned only moments later with a second cup in hand and handed it to Castiel.

“Try this,” she said, thrusting the second cup into his hands. “I’ll drink your beer since it’s too offensive for your sweet little taste buds.”

He looked into the cup she gave him and saw that it was a much darker color than beer. It looked like a cup full of Coca-Cola. He took a small sip and was delighted to find the familiar sudsy-sweet carbonation of soda. There was the barest hint of spice and heat on the edge of his tongue with every sip. It was delicious.

“This is much better,” he says to Jo with a small smile.

“It’s a rum and coke. I figured that might be a little more to your tastes. Just don’t overdo it because rum is a way higher proof than beer.”

Castiel nodded and continued to take small sips from his cup. Sam eventually made his way over to them, trying and failing to sneak a beer past Jo’s chaperoning eye. He informed their small group that the drivers were lining up to race and they should make their way over to the sidelines to watch. Gripping his cup in both hands, Castiel followed Dean’s entourage over to the side of the lake where a large group had congregated. From this spot you could clearly see the entire track. Castiel had always pulled his car into the very end of the parking area to watch the cars race. He had a decent view from the front seat of his car but it was nothing like the view he had now. He could smell the exhaust from the cars that were lined up to race, and he could hear the beautiful grumbling purr of Dean’s engine. It was a wonderful sound. He glanced to his left to see Chuck watching with a huge grin.

“This is pretty cool, Cas.” He said, nudging his shoulder.

“Just wait,” Castiel responded. “Dean is a wonderful driver. They all are, really, but he will always come out on top. The speed he manages to maintain is just…it is exhilarating.”

He felt his face immediately heat up as the words left his mouth, but luckily Chuck did not seem to notice. He was too busy draining what was left in his cup. Jo, however, gave him a knowing smirk and he followed Chuck’s example, emptying his drink in one last gulp. 

Ash stood in front of both cars at the starting line of the track, no flag in hand, no fancy horn to announce the start; just a simple shout of “3…2…1…RACE!” and both vehicles were off. Watching from such a close proximity, Castiel could feel the sudden billowing of dust around the area that had been kicked up by the tires of each car. Though he could taste the grit on his tongue, he was neither bothered nor disgusted. It was thrilling to be so close again after all this time. Even when he had attended the races with Michael he never stood so close to the starting line. People were cheering, jumping, and shouting obscenities; it was uncomfortable at best, but still the most fun he’d had in ages. Watching the cars go neck in neck at the first curve on the track had Chuck sucking in a worried breath at his side, but the sudden hiss turned into a yelp of triumph when Dean’s car sped impossibly faster. In seconds he gained two car lengths on his opponent and kept the distance for remainder of the race. Just as both cars were speeding down the homestretch to the finish line, Castiel felt a nudge at his shoulder. He looked up and Jo was holding his newly refilled cup to him. He’d been so enamored with the race that he hadn’t even felt her take the cup from his hand. He mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to her and took a large drink, swallowing just in time to let out a loud victory cry as Dean crossed the finish line and screeched to a halt; sending dust and gravel everywhere. Castiel’s voice was lost in the flurry of triumphant yells, but the sound of his own voice had surprised him so much that he immediately clapped his free hand over his mouth.

When Dean finally exited his car, Jo grabbed Castiel (who in turned grabbed Chuck) and dragged him over to where Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala. After an overenthusiastic high-five from his younger sibling, Dean nodded at Chuck.

“Everything you expected?” he asked

Chuck was still grinning. “Better. I never would have guessed that you race like that, man. Now that I’ve seen it, though, I feel a little stupid for never having figured it out. Looks like it comes pretty naturally to you. It’s awesome.”

“Thanks man,” he replied and then turned to where Castiel was standing with both of his hands gripping his red cup to his chest. “How about you? You like the view from here better than from behind your windshield?”

Castiel nodded and took a large sip of his drink. Dean lightly knocked his own cup against Castiel’s. “What’re you drinkin?”

“It is a rum and coke, I believe. Jo made it for me.”

Dean smirked. “Ah. I’m really more of a whiskey guy myself. You should upgrade to Jack and coke. Way better.”

Castiel looked down and began tracing small circles on the outside of his cup. “I do not believe it would be wise for me to experiment with multiple types of alcohol on my first night of drinking.”

“First night ever, huh? You said you weren’t a drinker but I didn’t think that meant you’d never done it.” Dean grinned and clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Well, welcome to underage rebellion.” 

It took an irrational amount of willpower for Castiel to fight leaning into Dean’s touch. His grin was so genuine, and his smile so perfect and full of shimmering white teeth. He found himself easily grinning back at him.

 _Oh boy,_ he thought. _I probably should have remained in my car._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be probably another three or so days before I can put up Chapter 5 and beyond because unfortunately for me it's finals weeks and I'm extremely busy. I have a week off after finals before my Spring semester starts and my plan is to get chapters 5-8 finished and posted before classes begin and since my class load is much smaller this coming semester I will be able to update regularly :)


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was screwed. He was totally, completely, abso-fucking-lutely screwed. And not in the fun way. Sure, he had wondered if Michael's younger brother had gotten the same fortunate genes that the older Novak possessed but he never considered that this Castiel dude would be _even friggin hotter_ than Michael. This guy was, for lack of a better term, a babe. His artfully mastered bedhead, those bright blue eyes, his too-straight posture; all of it had Dean’s mind reeling. KU housed some pretty damn good looking guys and Dean had dipped his toes in the water of experimentation with a decently sized handful of them, but Castiel? He was a whole other ball game. For the first time in four years Dean found himself actually worrying that he wouldn’t win a race. He didn’t doubt his skill, but it would be just his luck that once he found someone he genuinely _wanted_ to impress, he would fuck it all up and lose to some amateur with a Ford Fiesta like Mitch.

Thankfully skill won out in the end and Dean sat atop the hood of the Impala like a throne while his friends, and Castiel, crowded around him. They talked briefly about Castiel’s introduction to the wonders of booze and Dean had even given the guy a friendly pat on the shoulder (which proved to be a bad idea, because as soon as his hand slipped off the guys arm, he missed the physical contact. Thus proving that Dean Winchester does, indeed, have a vagina.). Chuck had finally gone off in search of another beer and Castiel accompanied him so he could dispose of his cup. Two rum and cokes were all the guy felt comfortable having knowing he had to drive home. If Dean happened to stare at his behind as he and Chuck walked away, well that’s no one’s business except his.

And Jo’s, apparently.

“Sooooo,” she drawled as she scooted closer to him. “Whatcha lookin at?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I am not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Castiel’s cute, right?” She said with a grin. Leave it to Jo to get right to the nitty gritty.

“What are the chances that you’ll leave me alone if I don’t answer you?”

She shrugged. “Slim to none. I mean, I did just catch you ogling his ass.”

“Okay, yeah, he’s hot. Blah blah blah. Did you expect someone related to _Hottie Dukes_ to be buttass ugly?” he asked with a laugh.

She scowled. “Okay, one, I was fifteen when I gave Michael that nickname so fuck off. And two, he is way better looking than Michael. Michael looked like a spoiled rich kid whose parents bought him everything he needed to look nice but Castiel looks like…like…”

“Like a hot librarian?” Dean supplied.

Jo grinned. “Yes! Throw some glasses over those baby blues and BAM! Mama’s got a new fetish.”

Dean cringed. “Good lord, Jo. Turn it down a notch or you’ll scare the poor guy away.”

Her grin just widened. “I’m pretty sure my nether regions have done a pretty good job of that already. Castiel is in search of a fine gentleman to meet his needs.”

A flicker of hope sparked deep in Dean’s stomach, but he immediately shook it off and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You can’t possibly know that just by looking at him, Jo.”

“Who says I’m guessing?” she retorted and gave his shoulder a shove with her own. “The topic happened to come up while you were prepping for the first race and Castiel is very, very not straight.”

“How is it that you’ve known the guy for less than an hour and you’ve already gotten him to start drinking _and_ talking about his sexuality?”

Jo shifted her eyes downward and drained the last of her beer before answering. “I may or may not have implied that the two of you were practically undressing one another with your eyes when you got introduced.”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, Joanna? I was not. I am not that big of a creep.”

“Dean-“

“No, Jo.”

“ _Dean._ ”

“ _Jo._ ”

“Ugh! You are impossible, Dean Winchester.” She stomped off to get another beer just as Castiel, Chuck, and Ash were making their way back from the keg.

“My man,” Ash greeted and clapped him on the back. “When’s round two?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m probably out for the night. Mitch and Eric might go a couple rounds with each other but you’d have to ask them.”

Castiel looked almost disappointed. “You aren’t going to race a second time?”

“Nah. Sammy went to get a bottle of water out of the back seat as soon as the first race was over and I haven’t seen him since. Twenty bucks says the little moose is passed out, drooling on my upholstery right now. It’d be a shame to wake him.”

Unable to hide his curiosity, Castiel leaned over to peer in the back windows of Dean’s car. Sure enough, Sam’s sleeping body was curled up under a coat in the backseat.

“Does…does that mean you will be leaving soon?” Castiel asked, almost shyly.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Not right this second, but in a little while. He does this from time to time. The kid goes to some ritzy private school back in Lawrence. They start an hour earlier than most schools and get out an hour later, so he’s always burnt out pretty early. I keep telling him he doesn’t have to come here, but he insists.

Castiel smiles at that. “It is understandable. You’re his big brother and he enjoys being included in what you’re doing. All of this,” he says with a wave of his hand, “is very exciting. When I first started coming here with Michael, I was not a big fan of this place. I don’t know anything about cars and I certainly don’t know anything about racing. Michael was my worldly older brother, and even though I knew nothing about all of this, I wanted to be where he was. I know where Sam is coming from.”

Dean laughed. “It’s a little much to call Michael worldly, Cas. Last I knew the guy was dumber than a box of rocks. I’m surprised the dude even went to college.”

“Michael is not unintelligent. He is just…well, he is just unmotivated. He lacked the proper attention span for conventional schooling and he,” Castiel paused, trying to choose his words carefully. After a moment he just sighed. “Okay, perhaps Michael is a bit dumb. That doesn’t change what I’ve said about Sam.”

Dean was about to respond when he, and several others, noticed another car pulling into the clearing. No one ever came this late so naturally everyone was a little on edge. It wasn’t a police cruiser, but a brand spankin’ new cherry red Mustang. This model, Dean knew, hadn’t even been released to the public for sale yet. When the car finally pulled to a stop by the Impala, Dean jumped down from the hood. A slightly stocky, brown haired young man in a suit, _a suit for christ sake,_ got out of the front seat and made his way over to Dean.

“I believe I am in the correct location for a race, yes?” he asked with a light accent.

Dean gave him a once over and raised an eyebrow. “That, uh, that depends. How’d you find the place?”

“Oh, you know,” the stranger said with a wave of his hand. “People talk, heard it through the grapevine, so on and so forth. What’s a win worth out here?”

Dean snorted. “We don’t race for money, man.”

The stranger seemed to deflate at this. “I hardly see the point in racing at all if there is no profit that comes from it. Why not give it a go and make things a little more interesting?”

By now, the other two boys that were racing that night had made their way over, along with a few stragglers from the crowd. Everyone was silent, waiting for Dean to accept or deny a paid race.

As much as he’d love to win the money, and he knew he would win, Dean couldn’t do it. Racing was already illegal and there was no way he was about to add underage gambling to the roster too. No one knew this guy and he definitely didn’t _look_ trustworthy.

He just shook his head. “Nah, man. We don’t do that here. This is purely for fun, sorry.”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “That’s boring. I suppose I could still give it a go without payment since I’m already here. Leaving with a winning title under my belt is better than leaving with nothing.”

Dean smirked and made his way over to the other man, holding out his hand. “Name’s Dean. And you are?”

“Fergus Crowley,” he said, taking Dean’s hand. “But I prefer just Crowley if you don’t mind. Am I right in assuming you’re the man to beat around here?”

“Damn right,” Dean replied and stepped closer to inspect Crowley’s car.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Crowley said with a smug look. “My father designs them. Technically this model shouldn’t even be on the road yet but it’s such a hot little car that it seemed almost criminal to keep it cooped up in a factory for any longer. Father gave it to me as an early Christmas gift.”

“She’s, uh, she’s sleek alright,” Dean responded. He preferred classic cars, obviously, but he couldn’t deny the sheer beauty of the machine in front of him. A beautiful car was a beautiful car, make and model be damned. “You mind lifting the hood? I’d like to check her out. Never seen a model this new up close.”

With an annoying air of superiority and the still present look of smug satisfaction, Crowley moved to the front of the car and popped the hood. The other two racers, Mitch and Eric, moved alongside Dean to peer into the inner workings of the machine. Both boys looked impressed at the shiny newness of the engine. While both were decent drivers, neither of them were as heavily schooled in cars as Dean. He liked to think that his vast knowledge gave him a pretty good leg up against any other driver he raced against. Dean’s eyes roamed over every gasket, pump, and cylinder beneath the hood until his eyes fell on a coiled piece of metal hooked to the engine that he knew didn’t belong. He ducked in for a closer look before turning to Crowley.

“That a turbocharger, man?”

Crowley nodded and moved to open the driver’s side door. “First thing I did when I got this car was get it fit to race. You should see the front seat.”

Dean frowned and stepped over to where Crowley was. He looked inside and laughed at what he saw. The inside of the car was set up like a movie prop. There was a computerized screen and nitrous oxide containers connected to a pipe system that no doubt led to the engine and motor.

“You’ve got Nos in your car? Like legit Nos?” Dean asked with a laugh.

Crowley frowned. “Of course I do. Like I said, fit to race.”

“Sorry, dude,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “We don’t race like that here. No gimmicks and accessories, just cars and their natural parts. Get all that junk removed and then we’ll talk. This ain’t Fast and the Furious Tornado Alley Drift, man.”

Some of the listening crowd laughed at Dean’s reference, with a particularly loud squawk of giggles that sounded like Ash, but Crowley was getting angry. “You’re telling me I can’t race at this dinky little track of yours because my car is too advanced? That sounds like utter bullshit to me because there’s no way you don’t have a clip in the engine of that behemoth you drive! Do you know how heavy that fucking thing has to be?”

“Of course I do,” Dean replied. “I know everything about my baby. I don’t have additions in my engine and no fancy computer system. I just know how to drive. Like I said, lose the stuff and you can race too but until then…no dice. That’s just not how we do it here. Small town races don’t need Hollywood movie props.”

Crowley just rolled his eyes and shoved himself into the driver’s seat. After slamming his door, he rolled down his tinted window and glared at Dean. “You’re all a bunch of hicks anyway. Let me know if you hillbillies ever upgrade to a race worth participating in.”

With that he sped off, turning onto the small road leading out and disappearing into the thick throng of trees. There was an awkward silence among the crowd for a few moments until Dean finally declared that it was time for Mitch and Eric to race, to which both boys heartily agreed. As the two were driving their cars to the starting point, Ash made his way over to Dean in a slow, drunken stumble.

He clapped Dean on the shoulder a little too hard when he got close. “Man, I about lost my marbles when you spouted that shit about Tornado Alley Drift.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “I think you might be wasted, dude. “

“Hey now, Dr. Badass does not get wasted. He only gets more badass.”

“Where’d Jo run off to anyway?”

Ash gestured vaguely toward the crowd of people that were huddled around the firelit trashcan. “Said some nonsense about being cold or something, but I think she just didn’t like the looks of Mustang Boy when he drove up. Your other little friends are over there with her, conspiring and what not.”

Dean just rolled his eyes, because knowing Jo she _was_ actually conspiring. He tugged Ash’s hoodie sleeve to get him to follow along and they walked over to where they found Jo’s blonde curls bouncing around as she danced badly to some music playing out of a car.

“Geez, you drunk too?” Dean asked as he walked up beside her. She just rolled her eyes and kept dancing. He nodded at Chuck and smiled at Castiel, who immediately turned red; but not before responding with a small smile of his own.

Dean sighed. _Oh god, the dude’s adorable. Yeah, I’m totally and completely fucked here._

“So,” Chuck started. “Who was that guy in the red car?”

Dean shrugged. “Just some spoiled rich kid looking for an adrenaline rush. Fucking guy had nitrous oxide tanks in his car. He got all pissed when I told him we don’t fuck with that shit out here. I know it’s a little early, but since Sammy passed out in the car and Dr. Badass over here is shit-faced-” Ash scoffed, and then immediately started laughing. “—we’re probably going to get going. So, uh, you coming again next week?”

Chuck nodded. “If you’re alright with it. This was pretty fun.”

“I don’t mind. As long as no one gets in my face while I’m checking out my car, I’m usually pretty laid back here. I feel at home.” He stretched his arms upward and yawned. He noticed Castiel’s eyes widen slightly when his t-shirt rode up, exposing a small strip of his lower abdomen. “What about you, Cas?”

The boy’s eyes immediately shot up. “What?”

“You gonna forego your little shelter again next Friday and watch the races with these jackals again? We’re not such a bad bunch, even if we did pop your booze cherry.”

Castiel’s lips quirked up in a tiny smile. “I-yes, I believe I’d like to come out again next week. I may wait until I am closer to home to drink again, though. If I am going to get properly drunk someday, I’d like to not worry about driving.”

“A buddy of mine’s having a party next Saturday,” Dean replied quickly. “He lives like a mile off campus in a big old house with like six other dudes. You guys should come.”

“You talking about Benny?” Chuck asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s within walking distance so we can all get thoroughly hammered. What do you say?"

“I didn’t know Benny was having a party,” Chuck said, his face scrunched up in contemplation. “That guy Bryce from my Creative Writing class lives there and he usually tells me about all their parties. Maybe I pissed him off.”

Dean noted Chuck’s worried look and shook his head. “No, man. Benny just started planning it, like, yesterday. Not a lot of people know yet. I’m sure you’d have heard about it in a day or two. So, uh, you guys in? Cas?”

Castiel looked at Chuck, who nodded, and then back at Dean. “I’d like that.”

“Awesome,” Dean replied with a genuine smile, earning one right back from the blue-eyed boy. “Well, uh, was good to meet you and what not. I’ll…I’ll see you next Friday. And Saturday. Heh, c’mon Jo, Ash. We’re outta here.”

Dean walked slowly over to the Impala and slipped into the driver’s seat. Upon shutting the door, Sam immediately jolted in his seat.

“S’goin on?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jo opened the back door and slid in next to the taller Winchester. “Go back to sleep, Sam. We’re just leaving the track.”

Sam nodded slowly and melted back down into the backseat. When Ash was finally settled into the front passenger seat, dangerously close to passing out himself, Dean started the Impala and began the long trek home. Looking in the rearview mirror, he half expected Castiel and Chuck to be driving along behind him. Then he remembered that although Chuck had come to watch Dean, Castiel had been watching the races for years; even before Dean started racing. Of course he wasn’t just going to want to leave when Dean left, he’d want to stay and watch the others race too. It was almost disappointing.

Picking up his cell phone, he noted that it was just past one in the morning. He desperately hoped that Benny wasn’t asleep yet. He dialed the number, silently praying.

“Who’re you calling?” Jo asked from the back. He just shushed her.

Benny answered on the fourth ring. “What’s goin’ on, brother?”

“Hey, Benny,” Dean greeted happily. “I, uh, I kinda need a huge favor.”

“Oh really, now? And what would that be?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I need you to have a party next Saturday. Because…well, just because.”

Jo began giggling in the backseat and Dean glared at her through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know, man,” Benny responded. “I ain’t really a partying guy. My roommates aren’t really partiers. It’ll be a huge inconvenience.”

Dean knew his friend was kidding and he laughed into the phone. “I’m serious, man. Can you just do this for me? It’s been a while, you know?”

Benny sighed into his end. “You got it, brother. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, man.”

Dean had hardly pressed the ‘end’ button when Jo’s quiet chuckling broke into full on peals of maniacal laughter.

“Shut up, Jo.”

“You, ahaha, you didn’t even have a party to go to!”

“Dammit Jo.”

“Dean! You, aha, you made up a party so you could hang out with him! HA!”

“Joanna Beth, I swear to God.”

Her laughter began to slow, and her breathing was heavy. Once the car was finally silent, she leaned back into her seat and let one more light chuckle escape from her lips. “Dean Winchester, you are such a girl.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel, gritted his teeth, and drove home in complete silence.

_Shit._

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel really hates Google search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this chapter is, I just had a REALLY long break between my finals today and decided to write up a little something to feed the masses. Haha :)

As luck would have it, Castiel did not have to wait an entire week to see Dean again. From the moment Dean invited he and Chuck to Benny’s party, there had been a constant fluttering of butterflies running rampant in his belly. The Monday following the race where he’d met Dean, Castiel had decided to finally visit the coffee shop Chuck had suggested to him only a few days prior. His schedule had been much the same since he started college; waking at promptly six a.m., going for a long run on the sidewalk past all of the shops close by the university, and then dragging himself home for a shower and a nice giant cup of coffee before his morning class. It was his first run of the week and as he was heading back toward the campus he looked up to see a large sign that said ‘Mean Bean’ with a picture of a steaming cup of coffee. He entered the shop immediately, remembering Chuck’s raving review. The coffee maker in his shared dorm room took at least an hour just to make one pot of coffee, and he’d learned early on that he couldn’t just let the coffee brew while he was showering or his elusive roommate would come back just in time to drink it all and leave again. They’d been living together for just over a year and he could still count on his hands how many times he’s actually spoken to the guy.

 

When he walks into the shop, he’s greeted by waves of a delicious, rich smell. It was much better smelling than the cheap coffee he made in his own room. He quickly made a mental note to come back to this shop someday when he had free time so he could sit in one of the plush chairs that were tucked into the corner of the establishment. The barista had just left the register to retrieve the medium black coffee he ordered when a familiar voice drifted into his ear.

“Hey Cas.”

Castiel’s head snapped up and he was immediately greeted by the sight of Dean’s bright green eyes and a small, crooked smile. “D-Dean, oh, hello.”

Dean’s eyes travelled down the length of Castiel’s torso and he was almost flattered until he remembered that it was probably because he was dressed in shabby running clothes and probably covered in sweat. His cheeks immediately flamed, but Dean just chuckled.

“You been working out this morning?”

Castiel nodded. “I run a few miles every morning on weekdays.”

“Well, you’re a better man than me,” Dean replied. “I couldn’t be assed to get up early enough in the morning for that. Only reason I’m here now is because I decided to stay an extra night at my parent’s house and drive back here this morning. My first class isn’t until noon so I’m pretty far ahead of schedule.”

“Do-do you come here often?” Castiel asked, internally chastising himself when he realized that it sounded like a bad come-on.

Dean didn’t seem to notice and shrugged his shoulders. “I come here once or twice a week. It’s nothing like Chuck, though. That dude gets coffee from here at least twice a day.”

“Perhaps his caffeine addiction is what makes him so shaky.”

The barista made her way over with Castiel’s cup and looked to Dean to take his order. “Large black coffee with a hazelnut drizzle, please,” he told her, and then turned back to Castiel. “So, are you in a hurry to get to class or do you think, you know, maybe you want to sit down and have coffee with me?”

Castiel smiled, a huge genuine smile. That is, until he realized he _did_ have to go to class. “I…I do have a morning class.”

Dean looks almost disappointed. “Oh. Okay, well, yeah. That’s…that’s fine. It was just a thought, ya know?”

“Another time?” Castiel asked. “I really would like to have coffee with you if I didn’t have a class. Not to mention I must look repulsive right now.”

The other boy just laughed and shook his head. “Nah, man. You look, uh, you know, you look..fit and stuff. You look fine.”

Castiel smiled. “Perhaps we could have coffee later in the week? I am free from noon to three on weekdays

“I’m in classes pretty much all day after noon during the week,” Dean replied. He took his coffee from the barista when she returned and looked at Castiel with slight smile. “Clearly the universe is telling us not to have a coffee date. Not that it’s a date. I’m not… I didn’t…you know what I mean. We can’t…have…coffee. I should let you get going.”

The hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck were standing on end. Dean had said date. He’d taken it back the minute he had realized what he said, but still, he _had_ said it. Castiel nodded at Dean and waved before heading toward the door.

“Hey, uh, Cas?” Dean called to him. Castiel turned. “See you Friday?”

He nodded at Dean and replied, “And Saturday.”

Dean grinned at him and waved before turning to head for a table at the back of the café. Finally Castiel was headed back to his dorm (which took a lot longer than usual because he had to walk instead of run. Turns out it’s kind of a pain in the ass to run while holding a cup of coffee.) He showered and prepared for his classes with the same swiftness he did on any other day. But today he could not focus on his lessons, only the coming events of the weekend. His Greek Mythology professor was halfway through her very first lecture of the semester before Castiel finally stopped listening and instead opened his laptop. Half of the students in the class were asleep already, Chuck included. With one last glance at the teacher, he opened Google and began to type:

_What is the appropriate attire for a first time getting drunk._

Nothing helpful had come up. So he tried again:

_Appropriate party attire._

All of the results seemed to pertain to female clubwear. Ugh. Another try:

_How to get a gay man's attention._

 The first ten results were links to Youtube videos by twinky looking boys sitting in front of their computers. One last try:

_Gay dating advice._

He was sure he’d get some decent results this time, but he was disappointed (and disturbed) one last time when most of the results that came up were tips on how to properly stretch open a partner before sexual intercourse and how to find your partner’s prostate. He continued to scroll until he found a picture, _a fucking picture_ , of a gloved hand with two fingers inside of a man _demonstrating_ the location. He slammed his laptop shut, hoping no one noticed.

“That’s it,” he declared. “I’m not going.”

The professor stopped and turned to look at him. “What was that, Mr. Novak?”

He didn’t realize that he’d said it out loud. Oops. Instead of answering her, he just dropped his head onto the table with a loud thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My semester is over today! I have pretty epic plans for the party scene all outlined out. It will be equal parts cute and hilarious (in my opinion, and I hope you'll all think so too!) Who knows, maybe after tonight's new SPN episode I'll feel tempted to write it right away! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said there would be kisses and fluffy junk in this chapter but it got so long that I split it in two. The next chapter will be up in a few hours. I'm just adding finishing touches and editing so the wait won't be long :3

The door hadn’t even shut behind Castiel before Dean had his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts. After six rings the other end finally picked up.

“Winchester,” Jo hissed. “It is only eight in the morning. The only acceptable reason for your ass to be calling me this early is if the apocalypse is coming.”

“I need you to come to Benny’s party with me,” He replied.

“…..What?”

“I just saw him at the coffee shop, Jo. I ran into him when he was getting coffee after a jog or something. He was wearing workout clothes and he was all sweaty and he was _still_ ridiculously hot. I need you to come with me so I don’t do something stupid.”

“What are you talking about? You think Benny’s hot now? I mean, sure, the guy’s alright looking but I didn’t think he was your type.”

“What?” Dean yelped. “No, Jo, I’m talking about Castiel. I’m pretty sure Benny is the straightest guy I know.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Dude, give me a break it’s early and you woke me up. So you’re telling me that you don’t want to go to a party alone with Cas because he’s too good looking? Dean, I’ve met some of the guys you fooled around with and they aren’t exactly hard on the eyes.”

Dean sighed. “I know that, Jo. Cas is just…He makes me nervous. I don’t know. He like, stares and stuff.”

“Dean, you are turning into a woman.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he yelled into the phone. A few customers glanced at him and he just shrugged and lowered his head. “Just come to the party. How long has it been since you came out to the campus for a party anyway? We can get Ash too.”

Jo was quiet on the other end. Dean knew how much Jo liked Ash, and he also conveniently knew how much Ash liked her right back. But the inconvenient part was that both friends made Dean swear on Sammy’s life that he would never tell the other how they felt because they didn’t want to “ruin their friendship.”

“Fine,” Jo finally said. “I’ll come, but if you don’t drunkenly hit on that boy at least once, I am going to obliterate you.”

“Jo, I can guarantee that this weird thing I have for him is not mutual. You should have seen how indifferent he looked when I ran into him just now. I even asked him to have coffee with me and he said no.”

“He said no?”

“Yep.”

“Dean, did he have a morning class?” she asked. Dean didn’t answer her, which was a dead giveaway that she was absolutely right. “Dean Winchester, that was not a rejection. He had a _class._ I’m willing to bet money that he tried to reschedule with you too, didn’t he?”

“Pfft, nnn-yeah…maybe.”

“If you don’t say something to him at Benny’s by midnight, I am going to grab both of you by the jaw and ram your faces together. It will be much less painful for you to ask him out on a date or something, so I suggest you heed this warning. Now I am going back to bed and if you ever call me this early again I will rip your fucking bal—“

Dean snapped his phone shut before she could finish her threat. She wouldn’t call back. Jo’s sleep was precious to her. But she’s a woman, and women remember everything that has ever happened to them in their entire lives; so naturally, Dean was expecting to get a nice hard smack for hanging up on her when he picked her up on Friday for the races.

Oh, and smack him she did. He picked her up first on Friday and the first thing she did when she settled into the passenger’s seat was punch him in the arm.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “I was even bracing for it and it still hurt like fuck. You sure you’re not a dude?”

Jo smiled. “More of a dude than you apparently. So are you going to grow some balls and talk to Castiel tonight or are you going to wait for your deadline tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, are you going to grow some ladyballs and say something to Ash tonight?”

Jo glared at him but the response had successfully shut her up about Cas for the remainder of the ride. They picked up Ash, who now lived in an apartment across town instead of right next door, and he threw his overnight bag into the trunk beside Jo’s. Since they were both coming to Benny’s party the next night they had both decided to crash at the frathouse that night. Benny had gotten to know both of them so thoroughly over the last two years that he’d offered them a place to stay overnight in one of the many guest rooms if they ever needed one.

“Where’s Winchester numero dos?” Ash asked as soon as he slid into the empty backseat.

“Washington D.C.,” Dean replied. “Senior’s school field trip.”

Ash shook his head. “Man, I can’t believe that little fucker skipped a grade. Smarty-pants Sammy.”

Dean chuckled and nodded in agreement. As a freshman, Sam had begun to act out in his classes due to complete and total boredom. He had the top grades in his class and his work was always done on time, if not earlier. After he started fighting just for fun, the principal had called their parents and over several meetings with the board of education, they had agreed to let Sam advance to sophomore level. Two years later he had already gotten an early acceptance to Kansas University and since both boys were going to be at the same college, their parents had agreed to help them pay for an apartment off campus the next fall. Chuck wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to get a new roommate the next fall, but he understood. Sammy was only going to be seventeen and even though the sasquatch was more than capable of taking care of himself, Dean would never let him live alone in a dorm room that young.

Dean spotted Castiel and Chuck exiting a blue Honda as soon as he pulled onto the field. Chuck waved at Dean when he saw and Castiel looked away, shyly smiling. Dean had forgotten for a moment that he was in a car with two other people and when he smiled at Castiel’s bashfulness, Jo went wild with estrogen. She was cooing and making kissy faces at him until they got out of the car and saw Chuck and Cas walking toward them. He not-so-gently shoved her and mouthed at her to _shut the fuck up_.

“So,” Ash said when they had all finally gathered together. “Beer?”

Chuck and Jo followed behind him as he made his way to the keg, while Castiel politely declined and turned back to Dean. “Hello Dean.”

Dean’s eyes roamed over Castiel’s body once before answering. He was dressed much the same as last Friday, in black jeans and a thick but form-fitting wool coat that hid his shirt underneath. “Hey Cas.”

“Where is Sam tonight?” He asked.

“School field trip in D.C.,” he answered. He looked up just in time to see Mitch pull in. “So, uh, you still coming tomorrow?”

Cas nodded. “Will Benjamin mind having someone he doesn’t know in his house?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know half the people who come to his parties, man,” Dean replied with a laugh. “And do not let him hear you call him Benjamin. I’m pretty sure he might tear your throat out.

Castiel looked genuinely horrified and his hand flew to his throat. “W-why? That is his real name, isn’t it?”

“I guess he just likes the nickname better. He thinks Benjamin makes him sound like an old man. Does everyone always call you Castiel?”

The blue eyed boy shrugged. “My family calls me Castiel, but I like when you call me Cas.”

Dean gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah?”

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly and he coughed. “People. I like when people call me Cas. Some other people call me Cas. I just, I like it.”

Dean was just about to respond when Jo came back over and swung her arm around his shoulders. “Well, if you two are done flirting, we’ve got a race to put on. Who’s first?”

Both Dean and Castiel went red in the face, but the embarrassment was short lived as Mitch bounded over to Dean and demanded to race against him first. “Yeah, yeah. Let me just have a look under my hood real quick, I think I heard something rattling around in there on the way up here.”

Dean opened up the hood of the Impala and started to look around all of the pieces. He figured it was probably just a rock that had gotten tossed up into the car on one of the many gravel roads they took to get here. Normally he got upset when people hovered over him while he was checking the inner workings of his car, but he could feel Castiel’s warm presence peering over his shoulder the entire time and he was weirdly unbothered. Well, he _was_ bothered, but not because Castiel was looking over his shoulder. It was the way he could feel Castiel’s body heat, even through all of the layers of clothes they were both wearing to keep out the chill in the air, that was making him uncomfortable. He wanted to lean back the few inches it would take to close the space between them, but _whoa, calm down there Winchester._ He could freakin smell the guy he was so close; and what a clean, delicious smell it was. Finally he had found the offending pebble and he shut the hood, only to accidentally take a step back and bump directly into Castiel’s front.

He steadied himself and laughed. “Anybody ever teach you about personal space, Cas?”

Cas at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. “My apologies. I just find your vast knowledge of vehicular machinery both fascinating and very attractive.” Dean stared at him for a moment, his mouth seemingly unable to work. Castiel smiled, cheeks tinged pink, and began to walk toward the crowd of watchers with Chuck. “Have a good race, Dean.”

Dean quietly laughed a little hysterically to himself and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jo’s voice came from behind him. He turned to see her with her hands up in frustrated fists. “If you were looking for freaking confirmation, _that was it._ For the love of God, Dean.”

Brain still not quite working properly, he just pointed to his car. “I…I have to do the…thing.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering something about Dean and his ‘freaking cowardly uterus.’ The girl really was a sassmaster. It’s why he loved her. Two other guys from around the city had showed up that night to race so they had all ended up staying much later than the previous Friday. Dean had raced, and won, six times before they had all decided to call it a night around four in the morning. Somehow, he’d turned into a blushing virgin (which, okay he kind of was) around Castiel for the rest of the night. Castiel seemed to have the same affliction and anytime the two of them were left alone it would just be a few minutes of silent staring, nervous picking at imaginary strings on their clothes, and small smiles when they caught one another’s eye.

They drove closely on the way back to campus, Dean occasionally throwing caution (and laws) to the wind to speed past Castiel’s car with him and Chuck laughing at his boldness. Dean never raced on public roads, sure he sped a teensy bit because he loves the way the open road feels under the wheels of the Impala, but racing on residential roads and highways could risk him getting arrested and the Impala getting impounded. With Castiel laughing and grinning with childlike enthusiasm every time he saw the Impala speed by, Dean was finding it very hard to worry about anything else. The ride back had almost seemed too short, and before he knew it they were all pulling in to the parking lot outside Dean and Chuck’s dorm. Chuck waved goodbye to Castiel and when Dean passed the blue eyed boy’s car on the way in, he knocked on the window.

Dean leaned inside after he rolled it all of the way down. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 “What time?” he asked.

“Things usually get started when it starts getting dark but you guys can come around anytime. I’ll be over there all day with Ash and Jo.”

Castiel smiled and nodded. “I will see you tomorrow night then. Goodnight Dean.”

Dean just waved and started walking back to his car. He watched Castiel pull out of the parking lot before running upstairs to his dorm to grab an overnight bag. He ignored the pointed looks from Jo and Ash when he got in the car and no one spoke again until they got to Benny’s house.

“Midnight tomorrow,” Jo reminded him before she walked inside. Dean just grinned.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was disappointed when Castiel didn’t show up early, but that had dissipated when he realized it gave him more time to primp. Of course, when Jo had told him he was primping, he wholeheartedly denied it. He’d shaved away his facial hair, something he hadn’t done in almost two months, and made sure to put on his nicest pair of jeans with a tight black long-sleeved Henley. When Jo and Ash saw him come down the stairs to help bring in the kegs they both let out whistles and catcalls.

“Damn,” Jo said appreciatively. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear a pair of jeans without holes since, like, the eighth grade.”

“My clothes aren’t that bad,” he replied. He just got an eyebrow raise from her in return.

Once the kegs had been set up and Benny and Ash had gone on a liquor run, it didn’t take long for the crowd to show up. Dean saw a few familiar faces, some too familiar. He was stopped by two different guys that he’d had a brief ‘thing’ with during his first year. One of them, Aaron, was still sober and just asked Dean how he’s been and said that he should text him sometime. The other, a very wasted Dick Roman, grabbed his ass and asked if he was ready to “give it up” yet. Before Dean could respond (or punch him in the balls, which is what he actually _wanted_ to do) Jo grabbed his arm, shot an icy glare at Dick, and pulled him toward the front room of the house.

“Chuck and Cas are here,” she whispered in his ear.

Dean went willingly, and as soon as he stepped into the room he spotted him. Chuck was wearing his usual attire, jeans and a t-shirt, and had acquired a cup full of some alcohol or another before he’d barely crossed the threshold of the house. Castiel, however, was _gorgeous._ He was wearing another pair of tight black jeans with a long sleeved blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, topped with a black sweater vest. His hair was just as mussed up as ever, sticking in all directions and just begging to be touched. He was looking around the room, Dean hoped the boy was looking for him, nervously chewing on his lower lip. _He_ wanted to chew on that damn lip.

It might have been the fact that he’d already had three beers before Castiel showed up, but for whatever reason, the first words that came to Dean’s mind when he saw the other boy was, “Well fuck me.”

“Now we’re talkin,” Jo said with a smile. She pressed a red cup into Dean’s free hand and he looked at her curiously. “It’s a rum and coke. Take it to him.”

He nodded at his friend, wondering when she’d even gotten the drink. How long had he been standing there staring at Cas? He weaved his way through the crowd, finally reaching the door and tapped Castiel on the shoulder.

The boy’s eyes snapped to him immediately and he smiled. “Dean, hi.”

Dean handed him the cup and he didn’t even question the contents before taking a sip. “So, ready for your first big party?”

Castiel nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. W-what does one usually do at these parties?”

Dean tugged at his sleeve and gestured for Castiel to follow. “We can play beer pong. Or dance. I’m sure they’ve got King’s Cup going on in one of these rooms. There’s a few foosball tables and a pool table downstairs. I mean, it’s basically just people drinking and goofing off. If you aren’t having a good time just let me know, man, you don’t have to stay.”

“What is King’s Cup?”

“It’s a drinking game. You use cards with some rules for the people playing and there’s like, this cup in middle full of all kinds of shit. You probably shouldn’t play that on your first night getting drunk. You’d probably end up puking your guts out and you don’t want that, I’m sure.”

“No thank you. What were you doing before Chuck and I arrived?”

Dean paused, thinking once more about that douchebag grabbing at his ass. “I was just mingling. Talking to a few people I know from around campus.”

Castiel took another sip from his drink and looked down into the cup. “You do not have to babysit me if you’d like to get back to your friends. I’m sure I could find my way around somehow.”

Dean smiled at him. “Nah, man. It’s your first party and I invited you. I feel like it’s my civic duty to make sure you have a good time. How about we try and get next at beer pong?”

“Isn’t that the game where you throw the ball into the cup?”

“Sure is.”

“I may not be very good. I’m afraid I’m not much of an athlete so aiming well isn’t a skill I possess.”

“It’s alright,” Dean said with a shrug. “If you win then you just get the title of winner, but the loser gets to drink and have a drunken good time. So it’s a win-win situation in my eyes.”

Dean put his hand on the small of Castiel’s back and steered him toward the kitchen where the beer pong table was set up. They got to the table and waited until the current game ended, Jo and Ash having beaten a pair of freshman boys who were clearly drunk out of their minds. Before anyone else could step in, Dean dragged Castiel over to the table.

“Oh please, Winchester,” Jo said. “You’ve never won a game against me. You sure you wanna do this?”

“Hell yeah, gotta show Cas the ropes.”

Jo just laughed and threw the ping pong balls over to Dean. Since Castiel wasn’t a fan of beer, they allowed him to do a shot every time it was his turn to drink. They’d started him off on low-proof drinks, his favorite quickly becoming the spicy sweet Hot Damn. As luck would have it, Castiel was a much better shot than he’d claimed and they’d actually only lost by one cup. Castiel was not quite drunk, but definitely buzzed, leaning a little closer into Dean’s personal space and his eyes were much brighter with the prospect of new party experiences.

“Hey brother!” A voice shouted at Dean as he broke through the throng of people. Benny was sitting on top of the counter, beer in hand, talking to a tiny little brunette with a low cut top and plenty of assets to show.

“Benny, how’s it going man?”

“Just fine, brother, just fine,” he replied, eyeing the girl beside him. Then he nodded at Castiel. “This your friend?”

“Yeah, uh, Castiel this is Benny. Benny, Castiel.”

Castiel lifted the bottled of Hot Damn, which he’d stolen from the small island by the beer pong table, and Benny clinked his own cup against the bottle in greeting.

“You ever done a suicide train, Castiel?” Benny asked with a smile.

“No,” Dean cut in before he could answer. “It’s his first time really drinking, man. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Castiel leaned into Dean’s side and whispered in his ear. “Dean, what is a suicide train? It sounds unpleasant.”

Dean shivered at the touch of Castiel’s breath against his ear. The other boy’s hand was resting on his bicep, seemingly unaware that he was lingering. “It, uh, it’s like this…it’s this line of shots. Two people have six shots lined up and each one is different. You start with a really high proof alcohol and gradually get down the line to something that’s nonalcoholic. It’s like a game to see who can drink the fastest. I mean, you can change it up any way you want but that’s the general idea.”

Castiel eyes lit up. “I’d like to do it. I am hardly even affected by the alcoholic beverages I have consumed so far.”

“Cas…”

“Aw, come on man,” Benny intervened. “Let’s make it five shots instead of six, only four with alcohol.”

Dean looked at Cas, who was smiling brightly and waiting for his permission. “You sure you wanna do this, Cas? I don’t want you to get sick and hate me for the rest of your life for letting you go through with this.”

Castiel just nodded happily. “Who will be drinking with me?”

Benny shook his head. “I’d offer but it’s my house. I need to stay at least a little level headed to make sure nothing too crazy happens. What about you, Dean?”

“I was kind of hoping to be sober enough to help this one home if he overdid it.”

Castiel’s face dropped slightly at that. “Oh, Dean, no. I’m sorry. I did not mean for my presence tonight to interrupt you having a good time. I do not need to drink anymore.”

Dean set his cup on the counter by Benny and grabbed Castiel’s face with both of his hands. Castiel’s eyes immediately grew wide and he stared at Dean. “Cas, I’m going to tell you this one more time, okay? I _want_ you to have a good time tonight. I’ve drank plenty of times already in my life. Plus, I can stay pretty level headed even when I’m hammered so don’t you worry about me. If you want to drink and get crazy, you damn well do it, understand?”

Cas nodded and Dean dropped his hands from the other boy’s face. Dean could feel his eyes still boring into the side of his head when another hand slapped his shoulder from the other side. He looked over to see Jo and Ash standing beside him.

“What’s this I hear about a suicide train?” She asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Dean grinned. “Cas wants to try it out. You game?”

“Always,” she replied with a smile. “How about it, Cas?”

Castiel smiled and set the bottle of Hot Damn on the counter. Benny hopped down and moved across the kitchen to grab a stack of plastic shot glasses and an armful of bottles. He instructed Jo and Castiel to stand on opposite sides of the kitchen island and he poured five shots for each other them. The first shots contained Bacardi 151, the second were straight vodka, the third shots were the remainder of the Hot Damn, fourth were just beer, and the last shot glasses contained plain orange juice. Quite a few spectators had gathered around the kitchen to watch because, let’s face it, everyone loves to watch.

Ash stood behind Jo and rubbed her shoulders like a boxing coach. “Come on, baby girl, you can do this.”

Dean laughed, but immediately shut his mouth when a particularly hateful glare from a pink-faced Jo was thrown his way. “Come on, Cas, you can beat her.”

Benny stood at the end of the island between the two of them and counted down from three. Once he signaled for them to go, they were off. Jo’s dainty hands flew to the shot glasses and tipped them expertly over her lips, draining the stinging liquids into her mouth. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind from the very beginning that Jo was going to obliterate Castiel at this game. That was, until he saw the boy tipping back his own shots. While Jo had all the drinking experience in this pairing, Castiel had the newfound excitement and enthusiasm. He had momentarily scrunched his face once at the taste of the beer in his fourth glass, but he’d downed all four of the alcoholic shots and finished off the orange juice, slamming the shot glass upside down on the countertop before Jo had even finished off her shot of beer. Her mouth, and everyone else around them, hung open in disbelief.

Castiel just looked at Dean and grinned. “I think I am starting to feel something.”

Without hesitation, Dean began to laugh. He howled with glee until the muscles in his abdomen were physically hurting him. Castiel’s smile was enormous as he watched Dean wiping hysterical tears from his face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Cas. You are something else, ya know?”

Before Castiel could answer, Jo grabbed him by his shirt sleeve and dragged him back toward the front room where some upbeat pop music was blaring from the stereo. Dean watched as Jo grabbed at Castiel’s hands, arms, and hips and forced him to dance with her. He was all awkwardness, but still strangely graceful. Every few seconds his eyes would flit over to where Dean was standing and his already alcohol flushed face would turn impossibly more pink.

Ash came over to stand next to Dean and rested an elbow on his shoulder. “Better get up in there before our girl takes your boy.”

Dean just raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you think maybe you should get in there before _my_ boy takes _your_ girl?”

Ash narrowed his eyes at Dean and then crossed his arms. “I will if you will.”

“No shit? Dr. Badass is finally going to pour his heart out to the girl of his dreams?”

Ash laughed. “Dr. Badass is a little sick of pining, I guess.”

“Well, don’t.”

“What? Haven’t you been telling me to talk to Jo pretty much every day since we were twelve?”

“Well, yeah, but not now. Don’t _talk_ to her. Neither one of you is very good with touchy feely stuff unless you’re giving someone else advice. Right now, Ash, what you need to do is be the badass that you fucking know you are and kiss the little she-devil.”

“Dean, what if she-“

“Stop. I can guarantee you that it will work in your favor. I am your best friend, man, just trust me for once.”

Ash gave him a long hard look before finally muttering ‘fuck it’, draining the last of his beer, and marching right over to where Jo and Castiel were dancing. He glanced briefly back at Dean before putting a hand on Jo’s shoulder. She turned away from Castiel and looked at Ash. He just stared at her for a moment and she started to frown, but finally Ash cupped her face in both of his hands and crushed his mouth against hers. Her eyes flew wide open in shock and her body immediately stilled. Ash pulled back after only a few seconds and eyed her cautiously.

Jo stared at him for a few more seconds before finally grabbing the collar of his shirt. “THANK FUCK,” she yelled and slammed her mouth back into his. It was Ash’s turn to widen his eyes in surprise, but soon enough they fluttered close and he gripped her around the waist. Their tongues tangled as they wobbled away from the dancing crowd and backed into a wall. Dean laughed. _Fucking finally._ When he looked back to where Castiel was standing, he noticed the other boy heading toward him on slightly less steady footing.

“Dean!” he exclaimed, grabbing his wrist. “Jo taught me to dance. Dance with me. Do you like to dance?”

Dean laughed at the slight slur in Castiel’s words. He was definitely drunk now. He was willing to bet it was the 151 that finally did him in. He just nodded at the other boy and Castiel’s brilliant grin was enough to make the whole night worth it. Just as Castiel pulled him closer, the song on the stereo changed. It was some girl singing about a party.

Castiel put his arms around Dean’s shoulders as he bounced around happily. “This…this song, Dean, it reminds me of you.”

“That so?”

“Yes, it reminds me of watching you race because it is about Friday nights. I watch you race on Friday nights. I like…I like those nights.”

Dean laughed. “Me too, Cas.”

The blue eyed boy smiled drunkenly at Dean. “I think I would like to go home now, Dean. Is that okay? I am starting to get a little tired.”

“That’s fine, man. I mean, you’re pretty thoroughly wasted, so I’ll walk you home. Just let me go get my stuff, okay? Stay right here.”

Castiel nodded and folded his hands in front of himself. Dean ran up the stairs to grab his bag and when he came back down he found Castiel in the exact same spot he’d left him, only this time his hands were covering his mouth instead of clasped in front of him.

“You okay, Cas?” he asked.

Castiel nodded. “Yes, but I am rude.”

“What?”

“I did not stay here like you asked. Benny lured me into the kitchen for two more shots but I came back.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Alright, come on Bukowski, let’s get you home.”

Castiel giggled. “Dean, you made a joke. That was very funny. You are funny.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. Castiel was adorable and nerdy and shy when he was sober, but his drunk alter ego was absolutely hilarious. They walked past the Impala as the headed down the street toward the campus. It was less than a mile walk and the air wasn’t too chilled that night. As they walked Castiel began to ramble. He’d given Dean a very detailed play by play of his night, even though Dean had been there to witness almost all of it. He was a happy drunk, and although Dean was pleasantly buzzed as well, he knew this would not be the right time to ask Castiel on a date. The guy was definitely not in the right state of mind.

Once they reached the campus, Dean turned to Castiel. “So, where am I walking you to?”

Castiel looked up and frowned at all the buildings. “I…I don’t know. Oh no, I can’t remember where I live. Dean, where is my dorm?”

Dean laughed. “You certainly are an eventful drunk.”

Castiel looked like a kicked puppy. “This is not fair. My roommate is always gone on the weekends and I was going to invite you up.”

Dean stopped. He was going to what now?

“It’s okay, Cas. I’ll let you crash at mine and Chuck’s place. I’m sure you’ll find your way home in the morning, right?”

Castiel just nodded and grabbed Dean’s arm, following him on the rest of the short walk to his dorm room. Once inside Castiel sat down at the chair by the desk. “I can sleep on the floor,” he offered.

“No way, Cas, just give me a second okay?” He shot a quick text to Chuck, asking if he was going to be coming back that night and if not, could Castiel use his bed. Chuck replied that he was going to grab a bed or couch at the frathouse that night and gave him the go ahead. “Chuck’s not coming back tonight so you can sleep there. Just try not to throw up or anything because I’m the one that does our laundry.”

Castiel laughed. “I do not feel sick, Dean. I just feel…happy. And tired. I am very, very tired.”

“Alright, go to sleep there, party boy. You need some clothes to sleep in? My stuff might be a little big on you but I bet it’s more comfortable than what you’re wearing.”

Castiel nodded and Dean dug him out some blue plaid pajama pants and an old ACDC shirt. He figured the other boy would wander down to the bathroom down the hall to change, but apparently the alcohol had made him completely immodest as well as very happy. Castiel immediately shucked off all of his layers, and only when he was standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a pair of Batman boxers, did Dean realize he was staring. Not even staring, but _ogling._ He quickly averted his eyes and he could hear the rustle of clothes behind him as Castiel got dressed. He turned around again when he heard the other boy clamber into Chuck’s bed. Seeing Castiel wearing his clothes, although completely platonic, gave Dean a strange sense of satisfaction. He felt less open than the other boy had, clearly, because he didn’t rid himself of his jeans or long sleeved shirt until he’d turned off the lamp in the room. He climbed into bed clad only in boxers and tried very, _very_ hard not to think about the boy across the room.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for tonight. I am glad I came. I had a very good time.”

Dean smiled to himself. “Good. Does that mean you’ll be hanging around more often?”

Castiel didn’t answer for a long time and Dean thought that perhaps he fell asleep. But after a few minutes he heard the springs on Chuck’s bed shift and the quiet pad of feet across the floor. Dean’s mattress shifted as the weight of another body pressed into it. He rose onto his elbows, about to ask Cas what was wrong, when suddenly there were two hands cupping his neck. The first soft touch of Castiel’s lips to his was like a jolt of pure electricity through his body. His dick went from mildly interested to rock hard within seconds and his right hand flew up to grab Cas around the waist. The dry press of lips had soon become much more urgent and open. Castiel settled himself on top of Dean, his knees on either side of Dean’s hips, and Dean sat up to wrap both of his arms around Castiel’s narrow waist. Sometime in his trek from Chuck’s bed to his, Castiel had taken off Dean’s shirt and the bare bump and slide of their chests was brutally hot. Dean let one of his hands trace around the front of Castiel’s hip and wander upward over his stomach, chest, and neck so he could tangle it in the boy’s hair. Castiel made a small, pleased noise in the back of his throat and Dean took this as permission to continue. Finally he let his tongue snake out just enough to tease at the seam of Cas’ lips. The other boy did not hesitate to let him in, opening his hot little mouth willingly and inviting Dean’s tongue inside to tangle with his own. He could feel Cas hard against him, and he knew the other boy could feel him as well. He could practically hear his dick screaming to be let out of the confines of his boxers but Dean internally told it to _shut up already._ He mustered all the strength he could and finally pulled himself away from Cas’ lips long enough to look up at the debauched being on his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked, his lips kiss swollen and slick.

Dean smiled at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is actually very right at the moment.” Cas grinned back at him and leaned in, nipping at Dean’s pulse point. “Ah, shit, Cas. We need to stop.”

Castiel leaned back again and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Trust me, I’m extremely happy right now, but if we don’t stop right now then I _won’t_ stop. If we do this someday, I’d like for us to both be sober, you know? I do really like you.”

“I like you too, Dean.” Castiel replied with a smile that was all shyness, despite the fact that he’d just had his tongue down Dean’s throat. “Can I sleep with you? In your bed, I mean?”

“Of course you can,” Dean replied, lifting Castiel off his lap. He scooted to the far edge of his bed against the wall and dug his blankets out from beneath them. He threw the blanket over himself and lifted it in invitation.

Castiel immediately wrapped himself around Dean like an octopus and buried his face into his chest. “It’s about god damn time, you know,” he muttered.

Dean laughed. “Were you waiting to do that all night?”

Castiel just crowded in closer to Dean. “Try four fucking years.”

Almost immediately Castiel was softly snoring against his skin and Dean _desperately_ prayed that Castiel wasn’t too drunk to remember all of this the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, the song I was referring to while Cas and Dean were dancing was Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. It makes me laugh at the thought of Cas liking popular top 20 hits while Dean just rolls his eyes and deals with it because Cas is so freakin cute. Haha. (Not to mention it kind of goes with the title ;) )


	9. Chapter 9

Two things registered in Castiel’s mind upon waking up; first, there was another body laying directly behind him with an arm thrown possessively over his naked (wait, what?) waist, and second, he was being poked in the small of his back by what he was assuming to be painfully hard erection matching his own. He blinked his eyes a few times and looked around the small dorm room. As the fog lifted from his brain, memories of the night before came rushing back to him. The party, beer pong, the shot train, dancing with Dean…Oh. Dean. The kiss. The glorious, sweet, delicious, wonderful first kiss. There was no mistake that it was Dean’s warm body slotted up behind him and although he wanted nothing more than to wriggle his backside into the other boy, his brain immediately went on high alert. He shot up into sitting position in 0.02 seconds and threw the covers back to make sure he was at least still wearing pants. He breathed an immediate sigh of relief when he saw a pair of blue pajamas still sat firmly around his hips, thanking God he hadn’t stripped in his sleep and done something awful like groping or shamelessly humping the other boy. He remembered having gone to sleep after kissing Dean and admitting to him that he’d been pining after him for four years. He groaned inwardly at that particular memory and hoped that Dean wouldn’t remember.

Dean, who had been jerked awake by Castiel’s sudden jolt upright, looked up at him with cautious, sleepy eyes. “Uh…heh…mornin’ Cas.”

Castiel drew the blanket up over his torso and chest and looked down. “Good morning, Dean. A-about last night—“

“Do you regret it?”

“Wh-what? No!” Castiel looked at Dean’s face and saw what he thought was relief flowing through the other boy’s features. “Dean I meant it when I said that I like you. I had just hoped that…I don’t know, I hoped that maybe I’d have been a bit more sober when I said it. I-I didn’t do anything untoward last night, did I?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “We went to sleep right after we had our big gay confession, Cas. You remember everything as far as I can tell.”

“Big gay confession,” Castiel repeated with a laugh. “That is one way to describe it I suppose.”

Dean stretched his body lazily, both his feet and arms hanging over the edge of the bed. Castiel followed the movement with his eyes, lingering on Dean’s uncovered torso that housed the beginnings of a six pack. He was just muscled enough to be irresistible, but the trenches between each abdominal muscles were not so deep that it was disturbing. To Castiel, Dean was perfect. When his eyes finally found their way back to Dean’s face, he found the green eyed boy grinning at him. He immediately flushed and looked down into his lap, happy that he still had the blanket bunched overtop of himself, covering his still interested dick from view.

“So,” Dean spoke up, snaking a hand out to run his fingers down Castiel’s back. “Four years, huh?”

Castiel groaned and flopped himself down overtop of Dean’s chest. “I was hoping you would forget about that particular admission.”

Dean chuckled. “Oh no, man. I’m _never_ going to let you forget about that one.”

Castiel just huffed into Dean’s skin and allowed Dean to circle his arms around him. His fingers began trailing up and down Castiel’s sides, his whole lightly calloused hand cupping the side of him and running up and down the length from rib to hip. And then Dean’s touches got lighter. He switched from his full hand to just his fingertips, lightly ghosting over the sensitive flesh on Castiel’s obliques. The first small jerk of Castiel’s body made one side of Dean’s mouth quirk up in a tiny smile. The second and third time his hands made his way across the skin, Castiel was trying his best to skitter away and Dean was full on grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“You’re ticklish,” Dean stated. “This is going to be fun.”

Castiel started backing away. “No. Dean, no don—“

Before he could finish the sentence, Dean lunged at him. Castiel found himself pinned beneath the other boy, both of his slim wrists trapped above his head under one of Dean’s large, warm hands. The green eyed boy's other hand was making it’s away softly around the skin on Castiel’s sides and abdomen, making the smaller boy jerk and giggle against his will. This continued on for minutes, but it felt like hours. Castiel was howling with laughter and Dean couldn’t contain his apparent glee either; laughing with abandon as his hand skirted around Castiel’s body. Then Dean’s hand found a particularly sensitive place right underneath Castiel’s navel and the ticklish victim below gave a particularly hard buck, jolting Dean forward. Their laughter was cut off with surprise when Dean was pushed hard enough against Castiel that their matching erections slid against one another for the first time. Dean immediately let Castiel’s hand go and sat back, straddling Castiel’s thighs. For the first time that morning Castiel let himself look, _really look_ , at the tent in Dean’s boxers; appreciating the ample size and groaning sympathetically as his own flesh throbbed beneath his clothes.

When Castiel looked up, Dean gave a nervous little laugh and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “It, uh, it’s…you know, it’s morning.”

Castiel moved his hands from above his head down to settle lightly on Dean’s hips. “I-I sympathize.”

Dean smile and leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Castiel’s head. “Oh yeah?” All traces of nerves had seemingly left his face as he lowered himself further and gave a roll of his hips against Castiel’s. Castiel closed his eyes and grunted, frustration and heat flaring through his body. His hands moved of their own volition, from gripping Dean’s hips to sliding around to scrape his nails over the small of his back. Dean hissed at the slight graze and then leaned down to push his lips roughly against Castiel’s. They pressed their lips together a few times, mouths closed, listening to the quiet smack of lips in the otherwise silent room.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, Dean’s lips hovering just over his. Dean just moved his lips to the side of Castiel’s face, peppering kisses across the line of his jaw and down his collarbone. “Dean, I-I’ve never done this with…”

Dean tensed and pulled his face back a bit, staring into Castiel’s eyes. “With a guy?”

Castiel’s cheeks grew impossibly redder. “With…with anyone.”

“You mean, like, sex? You’re a virgin?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, but I meant this. I’ve never done this before. Does that…does that bother you?”

“I’m your first kiss?”

“Oh, no,” Castiel shook his head vigorously. “I have been kissed before but not like _this_.”

Dean smirked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Castiel shook his head again and moved his hands up around Dean’s neck. “I don’t want to stop, but please just, you know, just go slow? I’m sure you’re used to more experience in your partners. I am sorry.”

Dean leaned in to kiss him chastely once before responding. “I’ve only, you know, messed around with some people. I’m not like an expert or anything. You have nothing to apologize for. Let me just kiss you for a while, okay?”

Castiel smiled up at him and nodded, dragging Dean’s mouth back down to his own. He opened his lips immediately when Dean’s tongue sought entrance and they kept their hands above the waist, pawing at each other’s chests, hair, and necks. Both boys could feel their neglected cocks rubbing together as they moved, both making pathetic whining noises in the backs of their throat and fighting to ignore the friction.

Castiel knew from the time he’d hit puberty that he preferred boys to girls. He never had a sexuality crisis, he didn’t experiment, and he wasn’t troubled about who he was. His whole life he’d been relatively awkward about social situations and he’d never considered himself overtly sexual. The first boyfriend he had in the tenth grade, Inias, gave him his first awkward kiss at a carnival on the ferris wheel. It was pleasant enough, both boys smiling shyly at one another but not indulging again for the remainder of the night. Soon after that, Inias moved away with his family. Castiel never saw him again and he’d never found another person he was really romantically interested in. He preferred to sit in his bedroom reading or drawing, even close friends were in short supply for him.

 He’d always known from the first day he saw Dean race that he was attracted to the green eyed boy. However, he never would have guessed that he’d end up speaking to Dean, much less rutting against him in his dorm room. Dean was plundering his mouth with his tongue and Castiel was struggling to keep pace. The urge to lay boneless and let Dean _take take take_ was overwhelming, but with each swipe of Dean’s tongue over his own, a new and exciting feeling grew within him. Castiel wanted to _possess_ Dean. He wanted to pin him to the bed and discover his entire body with his fingers and lips. He wanted to tease Dean mercilessly with slick fingers and then bury himself inside of his body. He wanted to _fuck_ him. As luck would have it, the moment Castiel realized how badly he wanted to fuck Dean’s brains out, was the exact moment that Chuck decided it was time to slam back into the room with no warning. What. So. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written smut before so be gentle with the judgment. I know there wasn't much but it's building up to it :3  
> I hope you enjoyed it, and as always comments and criticism welcome. I like to know what people like and dislike so I can know where to go from here.


	10. Chapter 10

Screaming. That was what Dean’s entire morning had boiled down to. Multiple people, various pitches, and so many jumbled words shouted that he could barely make them out. When Chuck had unceremoniously barged into the room, first Cas screamed; grabbing a handful of blankets and covering his nude upper half like a blushing maiden. Then upon seeing the ruckus, Chuck started shrieking about boundaries and ‘ _shit shit DEAN put a hat on the door or something!’_ Chuck, with a hand raised to block the other two from his view, grabbed a pile of clothes and his shower bag and rushed back out of the room as fast as his legs could take him.

When Dean looked back at Castiel, his entire body was beneath the blanket and Dean just laughed. He pulled back the sheets to see Cas covering his face with both hands. “You okay there, Cas?”

The other boy shook his head, not removing his hands from his face. “That was immensely embarrassing,” he mumbled into his palms.

“Well, next time we will put something over the door,” Dean replied with a grin.

Castiel slowly lowered his fingers from his face. “You do want there to be a next time then?”

Dean lowered himself back down overtop of Castiel, covering his body with his own. Despite his apparent shyness, Castiel responded by circling his arms back around Dean’s neck. Instead of saying ‘ _of course I want there to be a next time you dufus’_ like he so desperately wanted to, Dean just lowered his lips back to the other boy’s and pressed against them carefully, chastely. Castiel’s eyes fluttered closed and Dean felt him smile against his lips. Dean couldn’t help but smile back and the kiss turned to a mess of clacking teeth and giggles.

“Let me take you out, Cas,” Dean murmured against his lips.

Castiel just moved his hands to Dean’s hair, twining his fingers in the too-short strands and licked his way into Dean’s mouth. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at Castiel’s lack of answer; not when the slightly smaller boy was mapping out the entirety of his mouth with his tongue.

“Cas.” Kiss. “Cas, you gonna answer me?” Kiss. “C’mon.” Kiss. “Castiel.” Kiss. Kiss kiss kiss.

Finally Castiel pulled back. “Dean, are you really under the impression that I’d say no?” Dean bit at the inside of his cheek and stared down at him. Cas just rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean, I would like for you to take me out.”

Dean grinned, bright and wide, and immediately attacked Castiel’s mouth again. He braced himself above the other boy with one arm beside his head, and let his other hand roam over the expanse of Castiel’s still naked chest. Castiel’s hands kept their place around Dean’s neck, his thumbs drawing small circles on the smooth, sensitive skin beneath his ears. Dean moaned in approval and let his lips trek away from Castiel’s, across his strong jaw, and down the side of his throat. Castiel tipped his head back almost immediately, giving Dean a larger expanse of skin to explore with his lips, teeth, and tongue. He’d never considered himself possessive, not in the least bit. The handful of guys that Dean had messed around with had been just a couple of one night stands and one or two ‘friends with benefits’ that he’d had for a short time. He’d never gotten past third base with any of them because it never felt right; not that he was a really sentimental guy either but he’d learned a lot from porn and google. Sex between two dudes is bound to be awkward the first time, and more than likely kind of painful for one of them, so he’d always kept that one last part of himself for someone he really trusted with it. Even though he’d basically just met the guy, Castiel was seeming to be _it_ for him. He could picture himself laughing nervously as his fingers glided into Castiel’s tight body and both of their skin flushed red from excitement and arousal. He could picture the way Castiel’s face would probably contort with the twinge of pain that would come from Dean’s first thrust inside of his body. It would be time consuming and strange, but then it would be wonderful and perfect and _so hot_ and their bodies would eventually meld to one another in the most glorious way. But the best part, he thought as he continued mapping out Castiel’s collarbones, would be that both he and Castiel would be giving this to each other. Their first times, together, perfectly. He knew it couldn’t be now, not with Chuck looming in the showers down the hall and sure to be back within a half hour. But someday he wanted this with Castiel, and if the hard, insistent bulge in Cas’ pajamas was anything to go by, he wanted it too.

There was an urgency in the kisses he pressed against Cas’ skin now. His lips and teeth were nipping at the smooth expanse of pale skin covering his collarbones, leaving tiny purple marks of possession in their wake. Castiel didn’t seem to mind, he just lay back with his throat exposed and his hands gripping onto Dean’s neck and shoulders like it was the only thing keeping him from floating off the tiny bed. Dean gained confidence from Cas’ obvious _want_ , trailing his lips further south. He nipped at each of Castiel’s nipples, finding that although they weren’t very sensitive themselves, the skin around them was. He pointed his tongue, running it in circles around and around the tight little bud, causing Castiel’s breath to catch in his throat and tiny goosebumps to flare all across his skin. Dean smiled against his skin, giving his nipple one last little tug before continuing downward. He mouthed over each individual rib and traced his tongue over Castiel’s surprisingly fit abdominal muscles. He knew Cas was in good shape, he did say he ran for miles every day, but his slender looking body that was usually hidden behind layers of clothing was surprisingly chiseled. Once his lips reached Cas’ navel, he recalled the blue eyed boy’s sensitivity. He stroked his hands down Cas’ sides, settling his thumbs in the dip of his hip bones and letting his tongue trace a line just above the waistband of the pajamas Cas wore.

The sudden oversensitivity caused Castiel to jackknife into sitting position. “Dean!”

Dean looked up and grinned. “Feel good?”

Castiel’s cheeks were flaming and he looked down, embarrassed, at the tent in his pants. “Y-yes. I’ve never….it’s just…it’s so much.”

Dean put his finger to Castiel’s chin and tipped his face back up for a kiss. “I’ll go real slow, yeah?”

Castiel nodded in agreement and Dean was just getting ready to finally delve his hand into the waistband of the pants and get his hands on Cas’ length for the first time when a loud knock sounded out on the door. Both boys growled.

“What?” Dean practically snarled.

“Uh, you guys d-done? Or decent and whatever?” Chuck asked from beyond the door.

Castiel flopped backward onto the bed with a small whimper and flung his arm over his eyes. Dean yelled back at Chuck to give them a minute and he ushered Cas out of bed and into his clothes from the previous day. Once they were both dressed, Dean grabbed his leather jacket and told Castiel that he’d walk him back to his dorm, provided he actually remembered where it was this morning. They passed Chuck on the way out and he breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw both boys finally dressed.

The walk back to Cas’ dorm was not long, but the air was much colder than it had been the night before. Half way across campus Dean caught Castiel shivering with his arms wrapped around himself. He immediately shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over Castiel’s shoulders, watching as the other boy’s cheeks grew pink. When they reached Cas’ residence hall, Dean didn’t usher him inside and leave, he walked up both flights of stairs to Castiel’s room. If he was going to be a gentleman, he was going to do it thoroughly.

Suddenly nervous at the door, Dean cleared his throat. “So, what…uh…what days do you have free? I really do want to take you out somewhere.”

“I am free on Saturdays and Sundays before six in the evening. I have a study group then.”

Dean pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened up the new contact screen. He handed the electronic to Castiel and waited for him to punch in his phone number. When he was finished he handed the phone and Dean’s jacket back to him. After pocketing his phone and throwing his jacket back onto his arms, he cupped Cas’ face in both of his hands. He had meant to lean in and give Castiel one last virtuous kiss on the lips before he left his doorstep; but when Castiel’s tongue instantly sought entrance into Dean’s mouth, that one tiny kiss turned into Dean quickly checking the hallways for passersby and upon seeing none, he pushed Castiel roughly back into the wall. He pinned him against the wall with his hips, his hands grabbing roughly at Castiel’s backside. Cas’ hands were clenched tightly around the collar of Dean’s jacket and he was pushing his groin against Dean’s with a fervor that Dean matched, thrust for thrust. Eventually someone from the dorm down the hall opened their door and wolf-whistled at the two of them, breaking the brief haze of lust that had clouded over them.

Castiel, still pink in the cheeks, gave Dean a shy smile and Dean groaned. No one who had just spent the last five minutes trying to suck Dean’s brain out through his mouth should ever look that innocent. It only got worse when sucked his bottom lip in to chew at the flesh before quickly kissing Dean’s cheek.

“Goodbye Dean.”

Dean garbled something back at him that must have sounded vaguely like a goodbye because there he went, back into his dorm room, leaving Dean to let out a huge frustrated sigh. After adjusting his much-too-tight-thanks-to-two-hours-of-teasing jeans, he finally trudged back toward his own dorm. Might as well break out some paper mache and make Chuck a Cockblock of the Year award.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said previously, this is my first time writing smut so comments and criticisms are highly welcome. I'd like to know if I'm doing well so far or if I could use some work. And suggestions are always welcome too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the text messaging format in this fic I'm setting it up like my own phone is set up. It says the name of the person sending you a text message but when the owner of the phone responds, their own number doesn't show up, so during Cas' POV Dean's name will show up when he's texting and vice versa. And I've also italicized all of Castiel's texts just to make it a little easier to differentiate. 
> 
> If it's too confusing to read or whatever just shoot me a message and I'll try to find a different way to format it that works better.

After Castiel had shut the door behind Dean, he immediately threw himself onto his bed. The last two hours with Dean were wonderful, but also extremely painful. Laying with someone, kissing and being touched by them, was something he’d never experienced before and it was overwhelming. It built up a physical need in him that grew more and more desperate every time they were interrupted. Since Castiel’s roommate was absent, as always, he was free to take out his frustrations in private, though he imagined it would have been much better if he and Dean had been able to go through with _something_. He’d just undone the button and zipper on his pants, his hand slid halfway into his boxers, when a quiet ding alerted him that he had a text message. He growled at yet _another_ interruption and yanked his cellphone open. The message was from a number he didn’t recognize.

**[555-2098: Would it be lame of me to take you to a movie next Saturday?]**

_**[Dean?]** _

**[555-2098: Well yeah were you expectin someone else?]**

_**[Of course not. I just did not expect to hear from you so soon.]** _

He quickly saved Dean’s number and set his phone beside his leg on the bed. He had briefly considered continuing his previous activities, but he thought that somehow if he had his hand down his pants while he was talking to Dean the other boy would just _know_.  Another ding sounded out.

**[Dean: Oh…so is ten minutes after I left you too soon to text?]**

_**[Not at all. I’m glad to hear from you.]** _

**[Dean: Sooo what you’re sayin is that you miss me?]**

_**[I may miss your company a bit, yes.]** _

**[Dean: Yeah well the feelings mutual. We can thank Chuck for the blue balls.]**

_**[The…what?]** _

**[Dean: Blue balls? You know, interrupting us right when stuff was getting good…]**

_**[Oh! Right, yes that was quite uncomfortable.]** _

**[Dean: Yeah he’s about to go to the coffee shop and get his fix so he can write so I’ll get some time to myself to “take care of business” if you know what I mean]**

Castiel’s eyes widened. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who needed to relieve himself of tension after their morning together. A spark of heat ran through his veins as he thought about Dean touching himself because of what they did together.

_**[I think I do know what you mean. I suppose I am lucky in that aspect. My roommate is hardly ever here.]** _

**[Dean: Damn lucky. Maybe I should have stayed ;) ]**

Castiel blushed at the phone. He had considered asking Dean to stay when he walked him back but after having been interrupted so many times in such a short space of time, he didn’t want to push it. If he’d invited Dean in it would have been just his luck that this exact day would have been the day Castiel’s roommate would decide to come back and spend the _entire_ day studying in their dorm. But it did things to Castiel’s insides knowing that Dean had wanted to stay. If he had, if they could have been uninterrupted, there was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that he’d have tasted, touched, and teased every single part of Dean’s body. Suddenly he didn’t care how brash it was to be thrusting his own hand into his boxers while he thought about Dean. Dean wanted him like no one else ever had and the feeling was more than mutual. He’d touched himself plenty of times in his life (because what teenage boy hadn’t), but never had he let thoughts of a real, physical person fuel his fantasy. The way Dean’s lips had felt on his jaw, on his chest, and around his navel; the temperature in his dorm was becoming unbearably hot just thinking back to only a short while ago when it had all happened.

Finally Castiel stripped off his layered shirts and shucked his jeans, leaving his boxers on just in case. He’d locked the door when he entered the room so if by some miracle his elusive roommate came back he’d have the time to throw his blanket over himself and pretend to be asleep instead of viciously jerking off to the image of Dean’s hands on him. He lowered the waistband of his boxers, freeing himself and finally wrapping a hand around his impatiently throbbing erection, and as if on cue his phone made another ding.  He snarled at it and flipped it open to reveal another text message from Dean. _Oh right, he’d been texting Dean._

**[Dean: Still with me Cas? Im sorry if that last message was a little too forward. I didn’t mean to assume that you would invite me in or anything.]**

_**[No not at all. I am just a little…preoccupied as well.]** _

He sent the message quickly, before he could lose his gall. He’d essentially just told Dean that he was jerking off. Although Dean had basically just informed him that he was about to do the same, it was still so new to Castiel that he was almost ashamed to admit it. He had absolutely nothing in terms of a sex life while Dean might as well have been a veritable sex god. He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of Dean’s past partners. He wanted to know how many people Dean had slept with, but he’d only used the phrase “some people” when telling Castiel about his experience. Of course none of that mattered now. Dean wanted him. But how much did he want him? Did Dean only want to fool around with him? He had asked him on a date though, right? But how many dates would he get? Did dean want to be…his boyfriend? He found his erection flagging as the panic began to set in. Another ding from his cell phone.

**[Dean: If you mean what I think you mean then that is unbelievably hot]**

And just like that, his cock was interested once again. It didn’t matter what Dean wanted from him because whatever it was, Castiel wanted it too. He had no prior experience before Dean but he decided that it was time to dive in head first.

_**[If you think I meant that I’m pleasuring myself then you are correct.]** _

**[Dean: oh shit]**

**[Dean: yeah that’s what I thought you meant.]**

**[Dean: Chuck better get the fuck out of this room because I definitely need to follow your lead]**

_**[I wish we could have finished what we started Dean.]** _

**[Dean: Me too Cas. Someday.]**

_**[Someday what, Dean?]** _

**[Dean: You sly dog…you trying to get me to talk dirty to you Cas?]**

_**[I might be.]** _

**[Dean: I really wish Chuck wouldn’t have come back so soon. I was so close Cas. Just a few more inches and I would have finally gotten my hand in those boxers. I loved just laying there kissing you but I wanted to get my hand on your cock so bad. You have no idea.]**

_“Oh_ ,” Castiel sighed to himself. If he thought he was hard before, he was wrong.  He gripped himself tightly, trying to relieve some of the immediate pressure, while he typed out his reply one handed.

_**[More.]** _

**[Dean: I never would have pegged you for a sext fiend…]**

_**[DEAN.]** _

**[Dean: Yeah yeah impatient. Want me to tell you all about how I’d have touched you Cas? I woulda licked my palm to get it all nice and slick and then I’d grab your cock and let you fuck up into my fist.]**

**[Dean: That what you’re doin to yourself? That’s what I’m doin. My dick is so hard I could fuckin build houses with it right now.]**

Castiel almost laughed at that. _Almost_. But the more he read and reread Dean’s text messages, the less humorous it seemed. It just felt urgent and needed.

**[Dean: I didn’t even get to see you Cas]**

**[Dean: So unfuckingfair. I didn’t even get to see your cock. I saw the way your boxers were all tented up though. I felt your cock rub up against mine while I was kissing you. I bet you got a nice cock Cas]**

Castiel groaned aloud at Dean’s text message, so loud that he was sure someone in the next room could have heard it. One handed replies were a thing of the past for him. His right hand was occupied, a flesh colored blur as he stripped his cock with vicious concentration. He’d been brought to the edge and back too many times that day and he was already dangerously close to coming. One more small sound from his phone and he gripped himself around the base to hold off just a little longer.

**[Dean: One of these days when we can be alone I’m gonna yank down those tight ass jeans you wear and I’m gonna stroke your cock so fucking slow. I’ll make you beg for it Cas. I’ll make you say please. Say it.]**

Castiel couldn’t help himself. He loosened his fist from the base of his cock and ran it slowly up the shaft, simulating the slow, torturous pace that Dean had described. With his other hand he typed out a simple response:

_**[PLEASE.]** _

**[Dean: That’s it Cas. So pretty when you beg. And because you asked so nicely, no more slow languid strokes. You beg for me and I’d make you come so quick Cas. Not just my hand anymore either. I’d wrap my lips around your cock too. No one’s ever done that for you right? I would though. Promise I’d make it so good for you.]**

**[Dean: So fuckin hard for me to even think right now. Want you so bad Cas. Need to see you.]**

Castiel was taking deep, labored breaths, trying to regain control of his thought process. Dean’s texts, while dirty, were not as completely filthy as some of the things he’s read about on the internet. They were better than anything Castiel had hoped for though, because Dean was making him promises for the future. He wanted to put his hands on him. He wanted to put his _mouth_ on him. And then he had a thought. It was a horrible idea, really, but a man is at his greatest confidence when his dick is rock hard and desperate; Castiel was no exception. So he typed.

_**[I’ll show you if you show me.]** _

Immediately after sending the message he switched to the camera function on his phone, angling the lens at his body so just his dick and part of his upper thighs were visible in the picture. Never in his life did he think he’d do something like this but college was all about experimentation, right? He took a dozen photographs, one with his dick laying curved up toward his belly, a small bead of precome visible at that very tip. Another taken from his eye view, showing his hand wrapped firmly around himself with a thumb stroking the underside of the head. Each picture was deleted right after he took them, deemed unworthy of sending. Then his phone sounded out three times in rapid succession.

**[Dean: Holy fuck are you serious!?]**

**[Dean: Fuck yes. Want that so bad Cas you have no idea. I only want it if you really want to but sweet fucking jesus I want to see.]**

**[Dean: <Download Media Message>]**

Castiel sucked in his breath. Dean had actually sent him a picture. _Ohshitohshitohshit._ His finger hovered over the download button and he licked his lips, suddenly very nervous. His cock throbbed in his hand, practically singing in anticipation. So he pressed the button.

Oh.

_Oh._

He shuddered at the first sight of Dean’s cock. It was perfect; long and thick, uncut and _jesus fuck_ so big. Dean’s hand was in the picture, gripping the base of his dick. The skin of the shaft was the same pure, perfect light tan of Dean’s skin, leading up to a flushed pink head peeking out of the silky covering. He could practically see the throbbing of the veins beneath the skin and he wanted desperately to feel every single one with his fingers and tongue. He wasn’t aware that he’d begun moving his hand on his own aching length again until a familiar heat coiled in the pit of his stomach, sending blissful sparks through his entire body. His surprise orgasm hit him like a freight train; toes curling, eyes crossing, back arching up off his tiny bed. His chest was rising and falling as he gulped down huge lungfuls of air and when he looked down he saw that his phone was still gripped tight in his hand, the picture of Dean’s cock displayed on the screen. He saved the picture quickly and returned back to his own camera. He was still hard, one orgasm wasn’t going to rid his throttled young body of the tension that had been building all morning. With a click of the camera and a large burst of confidence, he sent Dean a picture in response; a picture of his own cock laying half-sated against his lower abdomen, surrounded by a halo of his own come. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d be panicking about this in about an hour, but for now he was far too satisfied to give a damn. The almost immediate sound of Dean’s response only had him spiraling further into bliss.

**[Dean: Holy fucking fuck that is hot.]**

**[Dean: Was that cause of me? Cas please tell me that you fuckin came from looking at my cock. So fucking hot.]**

Castiel didn’t have the energy or willpower to type back all of the things he wanted to say to Dean, so instead he moved his thumb over the contact button and pressed ‘Call.’

Dean picked up almost immediately, “Cas?”

Castiel smiled at the breathlessness he could hear in the other boy’s voice. Dean was close and now it was his turn to talk. “Yes, Dean, yes. Of course it was because of you. I took one look at that picture and I lost my mind. So hot, Dean.” Dean was moaning quietly on the other end of the phone, clearly holding back. Castiel could even hear the faint slapping of skin on skin as he imagined Dean’s hand flying up and down his cock, relentlessly chasing his own orgasm.

With a choked off cry, Dean spoke again, “Cas, fuck, wish you were here.”

Castiel growled into the phone. “Come on, Dean. Come for me.”

And that was it. Dean shouted out a string of curses and Castiel heard the faint squeaking of bed springs, as if Dean had arched himself up off the bed and started flailing with the sheer intensity of his release. Both boys just panted into the phone for a few moments before there was a rustling of something on Dean’s end.

“Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I am so not waiting a whole fucking week to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle with me, as I said I am quite new at writing smut *_*


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel was far, far too good for Dean. He knew that right away, but selfish as he was, he grew attached to the other boy almost immediately. After their scandalous encounter on the phone that night, Dean found himself mindlessly rambling on about how they needed to tell all of their professors to fuck off for a week so they could lock themselves in Cas’ dorm and paw at each other shamelessly for seven straight days. Cas had just laughed into the phone and told Dean that, while very tempting, it wasn’t possible. Later that day Cas had managed to convince Dean to give up his lazy Sunday night to go for coffee with him at the Mean Bean before it closed. They sat on opposite sides of the café table making small talk and sharing shy smiles for an hour as they drank their coffee. Dean had initially been afraid that their attraction to one another would fade due to lack of nonsexual chemistry, but conversation came easy for them just as everything else had seemed to. Their time together was cut short when Cas announced with a solemn expression that he had plans to meet with Chuck for a project they were working on together. He walked Castiel back to campus, occasionally bumping his shoulder or hand into his just to watch him blush, and when he came to a stop outside of Cas’ dorm he didn’t even hesitate to lean into the other boy’s personal space. Cas made an appreciative sound when Dean’s lips connected with his and Dean _swears_ he was going to keep their kiss chaste if it hadn’t been for that one little noise. He let his tongue snake out the slightest bit, requesting entrance, and Cas opened up to him instantly. He explored the sweet cinnamon coffee taste in Cas’ mouth for a brief moment until Cas gave a light shove at his shoulders. They rested their foreheads together as they caught their breath and Dean muttered a quiet ‘ _Fuckin Chuck.’_ They said goodbye and Dean went back to his dorm to pout by himself and wait not-so-patiently until the next time he could see Castiel.

 Their schedules clashed during the day and they both had four very long classes that spread between five weekdays. By the time both boys were out of class they were usually so tired that they’d go back to their respective homes and collapse into bed, and if they got lucky they’d manage to find a half hour to talk or text before being pulled under by sleep. Fate finally threw Dean a bone the first Wednesday after the accidental phone sex incident when his Chem 2 teacher emailed all of the students to inform them that she had a family emergency and had to cancel class. The first thing he was going to do when he got back to his dorm was call Cas to see if he wanted to come hang out and if he said yes he was going to physically throw Chuck out of his dorm and threaten him with violence if he dared come back in less than two hours. He didn’t have to wait until he made it to his dorm though, because as he was walking across the campus to get back to the residence hall he spotted a familiar mess of dark brown hair beneath a large oak tree. Castiel was sitting on the grass with his back against the tree and what looked like a sketchpad in his lap. Dean watched for a moment as Cas doodled on the paper, stopping every now and then to grab a piece of whatever snack he had brought with him and popping it in his mouth. Dean stared for a few seconds before finally trekking over to Cas and settling himself down in the grass without a word.

Cas was so deep in concentration that it took him a moment to realize that he was no longer alone. When he finally looked up to see Dean sitting next to him, he grinned. “Hello Dean.”

“Hello yourself. Whatcha doin out here?”

Cas shut his sketchpad and held it closer to his body. “I was practicing for my Life Drawing class. My professor says that I am lacking the correct dimensions for moving limbs.”

“You’re taking art classes?” Dean asked. He knew from one of their previous conversations that Castiel was going to school for Religious Studies. “Where does that tie in with your major?”

Castiel shrugged. “It doesn’t really. I had the space open for two elective classes this semester because I’ve tested out of several GenEd classes and I enjoy drawing, so I decided to give it a try.”

Dean let his finger toy with the edge of Cas’ sketchpad. “Can I see?”

Castiel only shook his head and held the sketchpad closer to himself. “I-I am not an artist. Everything I draw is very rough. What are you doing out of class so early, Dean? I hope you aren’t skipping.”

Dean sighed at Cas’ sudden change of subject but he decided against pushing further. “Nah, I got lucky. My Chem 2 professor cancelled class today. I was actually going to call you once I got back to my dorm.”

“So because your chemistry class was cancelled you decided you wanted to take an anatomy lesson instead?” Cas stated with a small smile.

Dean’s eyes widened. “You frisky little—“

Castiel cut him off with a kiss; just a short, sweet smacking of lips. Dean licked his lips and hummed at the sweet taste left behind from Castiel’s mouth.

“You taste good.”

Castiel blushed and turned to grab a clear plastic bowl that was hidden in the backpack at his side. He lifted it up, revealing it to be full of various chunks of fruit. He plucked out a tiny yellow wedge of pineapple and placed it in his mouth.

Dean just shook his head and then peered over to Castiel’s backpack. “You got any real food in there?”

“Fruit is real food, Dean.” Castiel responded with a small frown. “It’s very good for you to have several servings of fruit a day, provided you get enough physical activity to counteract the natural sugars and prevent them from turning into fat.”

“That is rabbit food, Cas.” Dean responded. “You want me to eat fruit then you better roll it up in gooey cinnamon syrup and a nice buttery crust. You and Sam oughta be vegan bros.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and swallowed another piece of pineapple. “I am not a vegan. I eat plenty of meat.” Dean snickered lightly for a moment. When Castiel finally realized the unintended innuendo that had slipped into his statement, his eyes grew wide and he slapped a hand to his forehead. Dean lost his mind then and threw himself onto the grass, laughing and clutching at his sides as Castiel’s brightly blushing face glared at him from behind. “Th-that was not what I meant. Dean. _Dean-_ that was not-”

Dean sat up, wiping a few stray tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “And here you told me you’d never done anything like that before.”

Castiel just sat with his knees to his chest and the bowl of fruit still firmly in his hands. “Well, I think I may become a vegan after all.”

The forlorn look on Cas’ face when he spoke threw Dean into a new fit of hysterics, this time with Cas laughing along at his side. Other students walked by, staring at the pair of them. Dean was sure they were an odd sight, himself on the ground wailing out giggles like they were going out of style, and Cas sitting beside him and laughing while clutching a bowl of fruit. The more he thought about it, the more he laughed. After a while his breath grew ragged and he lifted himself into sitting position a second time. He settled himself back against the tree, his side pressing up against Castiel’s. Looking over at the other boy, he saw him pick up a chunk of some light orange melon. He watched as Cas’ perfect, beautiful white teeth sank into the fruit and tiny droplets of sweet juice were expelled from the indents that his teeth made. _Jesus fuck, his mouth._ Dean knew he was a pervert, and after the whole ‘sexting’ ordeal, he was certain Castiel knew he was a pervert; but never did he know just how bad it had gotten until that very moment. Watching Cas’ lips close around the light piece of fruit was like real-life porn right in front of his eyes. It made him wonder what Cas’ mouth would feel like on him. And just because Dean couldn’t help himself, he ultimately began wondering what it would be like to get his mouth on Cas again. He wanted to explore all of his skin; his jaw, his neck, his chest, his hips, and definitely, _definitely_ his cock. He thought back to the picture Cas had sent him and suddenly the temperature seemed to increase by about twenty degrees. He still had the picture of Cas’ spent, cleanly cut cock lying all pale and perfect in a pool of his own release. He wished desperately, that night and this moment, that he could lick away all traces of Castiel’s come from his own skin. The situation now had only made things worse because, well, Dean had heard very good things about the sweet taste of guys who get a lot of fruit in their diet. Dean watched a tiny trickle of juice cling to the crease of Cas’ lip as he chewed, and when he saw the muscles in his throat flex as he swallowed, his resolve broke. He grasped Cas by the chin and brought their faces only millimeters apart. Cas’ breath hitched as he locked eyes with Dean and Dean just smirked. He closed his eyes and let his tongue snake out just the tiniest bit to catch the tiny, offending fleck of sweetness that had been sticking to Castiel’s lips. He let his tongue trace Cas’ plump bottom lip, causing the other boy’s eyes to flutter softly until they closed. Cas’ lips parted as he inhaled one shaky breath after another. Dean took advantage of this by finally closing his mouth around Cas’ bottom lip, sucking on it gently and then giving it a tiny nibble and tug with his teeth.

When he finally released the swollen flesh from his kneading teeth, Cas cupped Dean’s face in his palms. He spoke to him in a whisper, his lips brushing against Dean’s as they moved. “Just kiss me, please, Dean.”

Never one to deny a plea, Dean moved the last tiny bit and connected their mouths. The other students walking around them had been all but forgotten. He chased the light, sugary taste in Castiel’s mouth, letting his tongue slide along Cas’ and pulling away every now and then to suck and nibble at his kiss-swollen lips. A rumbling growl emanated from Cas’ chest, and it was the only warning Dean got before Cas had imitated his own trick, trapping Dean’s lower lip between his teeth and giving it a firm tug.

Dean forced himself to pull away, just slightly, and look at Cas. “Come back to my dorm with me? I don’t have another class until four.”

Cas stared up at him, his eyes bright and his pupils blown wide. “I-I can. I want to, but Dean, I’m not ready to…” he blushed as the thought trailed off and he lowered his eyes to the ground.

“It’s okay,” Dean replied, tilting Cas’ chin back up so he could look at him. “Really, Cas, it’s fine. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’d prefer we had a whole night to ourselves if we ever do, you know, _that._ We can just kiss for a while somewhere a little less public. I-I mean we don’t even have to do that anymore if you don’t want to. We can just hang out and watch a movie on my laptop or talk or something, you know? I just want to be around you.”

Cas gave him a tiny smile and nodded before packing his things into his bag. They walked the short distance back to Dean’s dorm and found that Chuck was there, as he always seemed to be when Dean and Castiel wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. After shoving a ten dollar bill into Chuck’s hand and pushing him out the door with strict orders to stay away for a few hours, Dean found out that Cas definitely _did_ want to kiss some more. And so they did. For two hours he lay on his bed with Cas, his hands finding all the tiny nooks and crannies of his body that made him squeal, and Cas unintentionally throwing himself onto higher and higher pedestals in Dean’s mind. His enthusiasm made up for his inexperience and the slow, seemingly involuntary way his slim hips rolled up into Dean’s was what ultimately had Dean coming in his pants for the first time since he was fourteen years old.

 

Whatever. Worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be two more installments over the course of the weekend, one with gratuitous porn that I'm sure will help heal all of our wounds after the life-crushing season 8 finale we experienced yesterday.


	13. Chapter 13

Things were good. Hell, things were _great_. Castiel had spent every free moment of his life kissing or thinking about kissing Dean Winchester. It had been two weeks since the party and both boys had decided to up their caffeine intake in an effort to stay awake long enough to see one another after class. They had gone to Dean’s room together at one time and Dean had shoved money into Chuck’s hand and forced him to leave, but they’d taken to getting cozy in Castiel’s dorm after all. His roommate, elusive as ever, had yet to make an appearance but Castiel had crafted a simple little ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign that he began hanging on the outside of his locked door when he and Dean were occupying the room. Their time together was often short so all they ever got to do was make out, but they’d even managed to make that simple act feel filthy and oversexed. It had only happened three times, but each time one of them would end up coming in their pants without warning. It was Dean the first time, when they’d been in his dorm.

The second time, in Castiel’s room, they were wrapped around one another on his small bed, both of their shirts flung some-fucking-where around the room. Dean was straddling Castiel’s hips, leaning over him with his elbows braced on either side of his head and his hands clutched in Cas’ disheveled hair. He was holding Castiel’s head in place, fucking his tongue into his mouth, but not pulling. Castiel had his legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, his heels digging into Dean’s backside and forcing his hips harder against his own. His hands clawed at Dean’s back, and from the sounds the green eyed boy was making above him, he was enjoying it. When his nails scraped over the small of his back, Dean had his face buried in Castiel’s neck. He gave a high, keening moan right against the flesh on his throat and Castiel felt sparks run straight from his quickening pulse down to his desperate erection. Finally Castiel had gotten greedy. Instead of just letting his nails rake across Dean’s lower back, he trailed his hands lower and gripped Dean’s ass, slamming his hips up against him. Dean growled at the rough treatment, instinctively tightening his hold on Castiel’s dark locks and pulling a little too hard. This was the day that they found out that Castiel enjoyed having his hair pulled. Dean’s lips on his throat and the firm, violent tug of his hair had Castiel’s hips stuttering as he spilled into his pants. He lay boneless for a moment, Dean continuously dragging his lips over his jaw and mouth and telling him just how fucking hot he thought it was that he could come from a little rough treatment. Finally Castiel had managed to proposition Dean for the first time in their….relationship? Well, for the first time in whatever it was they were doing. He’d ask Dean if he wanted him to “take care” of him since he hadn’t gotten off yet. He’d been expecting a very enthusiastic yes from Dean, knowing that he was used to getting physical with his partners much sooner than he had been with Castiel. But Dean surprised him by giving him a gentle kiss and saying that they only had twenty minutes left together and he wanted to wait until they could take their time, even if it was just for a handjob.

 

They did, however, have their second surprising round of accidental phone sex that night. Dean had called Castiel when he got out of his workshop, like always. Chuck was at some party with a girl named Becky that he met at the Mean Bean and Castiel’s roommate was…well, he wasn’t even sure the guy existed at all anymore. He immediately picked up the phone when Dean called, marveling at how fast Dean had become a permanent fixture in his life. At first Dean had started complaining about another student in his Workshop. Apparently the guy felt the need to disagree with and disregard everything Dean said while they were working and it earned them all a big, fat scolding because the guy had screwed the car up so badly that they had to actually take apart the engine to fix it. Castiel didn’t know a thing about cars so he just lent a sympathetic ear and told Dean that he wished there was something he could do to make it better. Dean just sighed into the phone and told him that remembering what they did that morning was enough to make him feel more than fine. And just like that they were off again. They were describing to each other all the ways they were touching their own cocks, and Dean even went so far as to whimper into the phone that he liked having his own fingers ghost over his hole while he stroked his cock. After having said that, Dean grew quiet for a moment and then asked in an unsure voice if he’d said too much. Castiel immediately moaned into the phone, assuring him that he was perfect and so, so hot. Neither one lasted very long after that, panting and groaning into the phone, occasionally voicing out their desire for it to be the other’s hand instead of their own. They weren’t going to see each other again until the race that Friday, so they sat on the phone stalling and forcing themselves to stay awake just to grab onto those last few precious minutes in the other’s company.

 

Two days without Dean was torture. The weather outside was getting significantly colder as they raced toward Thanksgiving break, and his birthday on Black Friday, so Castiel decided it was time to stop sitting outside to draw or he’d come down with a cold. He did draw at the races though. He sat with Jo, Ash, Chuck, and Sam now instead of hidden away in his car, but now that Jo and Ash had finally admitted their feelings for one another they had developed a sickening habit of staring lovingly into one another’s eyes or sucking face by the lake and forgetting that everyone else exists. Sickening, but cute. Castiel almost wished he and Dean could be like that, but as far as he knew Dean didn’t want to be his _boyfriend_. Maybe Dean just needed someone to be his friend with benefits. They certainly were friends and they most _definitely_ had benefits. He wanted more but he didn’t want to push Dean for fear of losing what he already had. He never imagined that this beautiful Adonis that he’d been practically worshipping from afar for four years would eventually be at least partially his, to kiss and touch and tease as he wanted, regardless of how limited their time was. Chuck would sit quietly, drinking a few beers and occasionally discussing a recipe for a homemade brew with Ash on the rare occasion that his tongue was out of Jo’s mouth, and Sam…well, everyone liked Sam. He was a cute little (okay, no so little) social butterfly, and though he didn’t drink, he made his way throughout the entire crowd chatting at randoms all throughout the night. Most of the females in the crowd knew that he was Dean’s jailbait brother, but that didn’t stop them from reaching up and pinching his cheeks, mussing up his hair, and cooing about his adorable dimples. On nights like this, when everyone else was busy socializing or wandering in their own beer-addled worlds, Castiel would draw. He would sit on his car or one of the few benches that were scattered around the field by the track and he would draw people in the crowd, the fire in the trashcan, the cars, and the landscape in the firelight. But more than anything, he would draw Dean. He would draw Dean’s face as he was speaking to his competitors and his eyes were alight with knowledge and he would sketch him behind the wheel of the Impala before the race would start. This was one of those nights. Dean was talking to a boy named Seth about adjustments that he could make on his car that could make it run better but were also still legal, and Castiel sat on a bench by the firecan and sketched his profile.

“That’s good,” came a voice form behind him.

He jerked in surprise and splayed his fingers over the drawing. When he looked back he was staring into a cute face surrounded by wavy blonde locks. “J-Jo! I thought you were over…uh…I thought you were with Ash.”

She shrugged. “He and Chuck are talking homebrew again and that shit bores me to tears.” She circled the bench and sat next to Castiel, trying to peer in between his fingers at the drawing again. “So, you draw him often?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. That is Dean that you’re drawing. Looks just like him, Cas.”

Castiel blushed. “I…I like to draw him. I tend to draw things in much better detail when I like my subject.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “That’s so sweet. What does he think?”

“He doesn’t know. I have never let him see my drawings. I’m not really an artist, it’s more like a hobby.”

Jo raised an eyebrow. “Cas, that sketch is _good_. Did you just start drawing that tonight?” Castiel nodded. “See? That’s amazing. Most people can’t get that level of detail when they draw for hours or days at a time and you’ve been drawing for, what, a half hour?”

“Please don’t tell Dean. I do not want him thinking I am…creepy.”

“I doubt he would think that. Do you not see how he stares at you? He’s a lovesick little puppy that looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Castiel’s face grew impossibly redder. “T-that’s not true. Dean and I are friends, Jo.”

Jo just rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I hear.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. Who told her otherwise, and more importantly, who else knew?

Jo must have noticed the panic in his face because she immediately placed her hand over his shoulder. “Calm down, Cas. I meant that it’s not how Dean sees it. You’re more than his friend. He really likes you Cas. I thought he told you that.”

“Well, he did but-“

“And he’s kissed you, right?”

Castiel wanted to be embarrassed that Jo knew so much, but he knew she was Dean’s best friend. If he had a best friend of his own he’d have probably told them about Dean within seconds as well. But when Jo asked if Dean had kissed him he couldn’t stop the dazed, dreamy smile that crept onto his face. Boy, had they ever kissed; under the tree on campus, in Dean’s bed, in his bed, in Dean’s Impala after the race the week before, up against the door of his dorm room (and _that_ had been a good time, he had the doorhandle shaped bruise on his backside to prove it.).

“Okay, gross,” Jo said, snapping him out of his daydream. “I don’t know what filthy memory you’re recalling of the two of you, but I’m going to assume that it’s a yes to kissing. I promise Dean likes you, man, he’s just a little slow when it comes to saying it out loud.”

“Thank you, Jo,” he replied. “But I would still appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Dean about me drawing him.”

She just nodded and sat back on the bench. “Sooo,” she began. “You guys had sex yet?”

“What?” he squawked, clutching the sketchpad to his chest and looking at her with comically wide eyes.

She put her hands up defensively, “Hey, can’t a girl be curious? Dean won’t tell me about your sexcapades when I ask.”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief at that and tried to ignore Jo’s small chuckle at his side. When he looked up again he saw Dean heading toward them. He must have seen the mischief in Jo’s eyes and the still present redness of Castiel’s cheeks because he immediately squinted his eyes at Jo.

“Joanna Beth, what are you doing to my—uh, what are you doing to Cas?”

_Oh. My. He said ‘my.’ My. Mine. Mine. My Cas. Dean’s Cas. Dean’s._

Jo just smirked at him. “I ain’t doing a damn thing, Winchester. And speaking of doing nothing, you’re coming home for Thanksgiving break right?” Dean nodded. “Good. My mom wants to merge our families for the holiday and I need you there to deflect.”

“We haven’t had a combined Thanksgiving since we were, what, like twelve?” Jo just made a short ‘mhmm’ noise and Dean turned to Castiel. “Are you going home for break?”

Castiel shook his head. “My father is going to be in California giving a lecture to some graduate students at Stanford the day after Thanksgiving, so he and my mother will be visiting Michael for the holiday. I am not really interested in traveling to California so I decided to sta—“

“Come home with me,” Dean interrupted.

“What?” Jo interjected. “Since when do you invi-“

“ _Shut up, Jo._ ”

Castiel just stared at Dean. Was it customary to bring the boy you grind into the bed on a regular basis home to meet your parents?

“I…I would like to, but I-“

Dean kneeled in front of him. “Come on, Cas. You can’t stay on campus by yourself during the holiday. My parents would love you, and you and Sam could bond over fruit salad or whatever it is you guys do.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be. I can talk to my mom tomorrow and ask but I can guarantee she’ll say yes. And you haven’t _lived_ til you’ve tasted the apple pie my mom makes. Fucking incredible.”

Castiel wanted to go. He really, really wanted to go. But isn’t this the kind of things _boyfriends_ do? Inviting them home for Thanksgiving, meeting parents, spending birthdays together (although Dean didn’t even know it was Castiel’s birthday the day after Thanksgiving.) It just didn’t feel right doing all these things when he didn’t even know where he stood with Dean, but he was too afraid to bring up the subject to the other boy.

Jo, however, had this strange, magical ability to read Castiel like a friggin’ book. She took one look at Castiel and her face became soft and sympathetic. She stood up from the bench and put a hand on Dean, who was looking at Castiel expectantly. “Dean, I don’t think he’s worried about what your parents will think of him.”

Dean glanced up at her, frowning, and then looked back to Castiel. “What? What’s the matter, Cas?”

Castiel just looked down and bit at his cheek. Jo bent over and whispered something very quietly into Dean’s ear and then walked away, presumably to find Ash in the crowd.

Dean moved to sit beside Castiel on the bench, pressing their sides together. Castiel could feel Dean’s warmth even through his thick wool coat and Dean’s leather jacket. He loved the proximity, but he couldn’t look at Dean.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean finally sad.

Castiel flinched. That was it. Dean was breaking up with him. Or, well, whatever the equivalent to a break up was in their current situation. He was apologizing for leading him on, apologizing for not wanting more, apologizing for making Castiel fall for him…

“I’m sorry I didn’t officially ask you out sooner.”

Wait, what?

Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s. “W-what?”

Dean chuckled. “Cas, I…I don’t really know how to do this kind of stuff, you know? I’m not really an emotional guy or whatever, but I like you. You do know that I like you, right?”

Castiel nodded. “I suppose so.”

“You _suppose_ —Jesus, Cas, I want you to be my boyfriend, okay? I’ve wanted it since, like, I don’t even know. Probably since the day I met you. I just forget sometimes that you aren’t already mine, you know? We constantly talk and we spend all of our free time together and all the physical stuff is just, ungh, my _god_ Cas. It’s never been like this with anyone before. I know I didn’t ask you the right way or anything yet, but everything feels so natural with you that I kind of forgot that I had to ask at all. So I guess…I guess this is me asking. Do you want that with me?”

Castiel could feel his eyes bulging out of the sockets. His jaw, he was sure, had hit the ground and he gaped at Dean like he was an otherworldly being. “Y-you want to be my boyfriend?”

Dean laughed, his face going pink. “Yeah, Cas. If that’s what you want.”

Castiel grinned, a huge toothy grin, and then lunged at Dean. He grabbed Dean’s face in his hands, relishing in the glorious feel of Dean’s stubble scraping across his palms. He pressed his lips to Dean’s immediately and groaned quietly when Dean’s hands quickly found his waist and pulled him flush against his body.

After they pulled away Castiel looked at Dean, goofy grin still in place. “Yes, Dean. I want.”

Dean smiled back at him and pulled him into another quick kiss. “I have to go race, but I’ll be back. Come watch?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel grabbed his sketchbook from where he had abandoned it on the bench.

They stood up together and began walking over to the Impala, but after only a few steps Dean let his hand come up and grip Castiel’s elbow lightly, trailing his fingers down the sleeve of his coat, finally coming down to ghost over his palm and intertwine their fingers. Castiel could feel his cheeks flaming as he smiled shyly down at their joined hands. The public display earned them several whistles on their way to the Impala, but they ignored everything else in favor of savoring their first few moments together as a proper couple.

Dean turned to face him when they arrived at the car. “I’m not going to stay at my parent’s house this weekend. I’m gonna come back to campus and see if Chuck can find a place to stay for the night.” He lifted Castiel’s hand that was still entwined with his and kissed over the bones of his knuckles. “Stay with me tomorrow night, Cas. Please?”

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel replied without hesitation. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter tomorrow, as promised, and I'm very sorry for this one being up so late. Unforeseen circumstances erupted this weekend but here we are! :3


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning Dean found his least favorite task in the entire universe; buying condoms.

 

He and Castiel were both virgins so he wasn’t entirely convinced they actually _needed_ condoms for when they had sex, but Dean had fooled around with a few guys and until he got tested he wanted to make sure there was no chance he was putting Cas in danger. He went to the pharmacy on Saturday morning and stood in front of the condom selection for at least an hour. His blood was practically crackling in his veins and the excitement about what was to come that night had him shaking in his boots. Her pleasure? Twisted pleasure? Who the fuck came up with these names? What one works best for two dudes? Which one will feel best? Why on earth would anyone want a _colored_ condom? Okay, Trojan is a pretty good brand, right? And I guess Ecstasy is supposed to be a pretty good thing, isn’t it?

“Can I help you?” said a voice to his left.

Dean jumped and let out a very unmanly yelp before coming face to face with one of the employees. “Uh…I-I’m fine. No thank you.”

The woman gave him a tiny smile. She looked to be in about her mid-thirties and she wore a lab coat. She must have been one of the pharmacists. “If you need anything please let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

She turned to leave and Dean spoke up. “W-wait!”

She turned back to him. “Yes?”

“I need…I don’t know which to buy. I don’t know if it the brand makes a difference or whatever and I don’t know what twisted means in terms of...”

“I assume this is your first time using contraception?” Dean nodded at her, a permanent blush etched on his cheeks. She just smiled at him. “First time having sex?” He nodded again. “In that case, I wouldn’t worry about the theatrics. Bypass things like Twisted Pleasure and Fire and Ice, and just go for something simple; regular lubricated condoms or Her Pleasure.”

Dean clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times before finally crossing his arms. “Does…does the brand make a difference if it’s, you know, two guys?” He bit his cheek and waited for the judgmental glare he assumed she would point at him.

She just plucked a box off the shelf and handed it to him. “I don’t think it matters too awful much, but if that’s the case I’d probably stay away from _Her_ Pleasure condoms.”

He looked at the box she handed to him. It was just a plain black box with twelve condoms, three each of four different types.

“There are plain lubricated in that multipack, as well as a few others that experiment with thickness in latex and lubricant type. I would advise you to first use the plain Trojans and find out your preferences by experimentation. That is really the only way to know if you enjoy a particular brand. Also,” she turned and took a few steps down the aisle, plucking a box from the shelf. “I wouldn’t be stingy with this.”

He took the box from her when she held it out. It was lube. Good thing she was there as he’d almost forgotten to buy more. He had an almost empty bottle in his sidetable drawer and it would have been hell for him and Cas to have to make do with only that. The pharmacist rang up the items and he thanked her before rushing out to the Impala and speeding back to his dorm. He found Chuck sitting at the desk in their room, typing furiously on his laptop. He pleaded with his roommate to find another place to stay for the rest of the weekend and after an hour and a bribe of six PBR tallboys, Chuck finally caved and packed his things for a 24 hour vacation to Benny’s guestroom at the frathouse.

After that Dean flew into the shower, making sure to wash, double wash, trim, and perfect every little piece of his body. He and Cas had shared pictures of their cocks before so it should not have made him so nervous, but he wanted Castiel to feel the same about him as he did about Castiel. He wanted Castiel to think he was beautiful, hot, gorgeous, good enough.

When Dean got out of the shower and back to his dorm, he stood in front of his shared closet stark naked and vibrating in his skin. He wanted to look good for Cas, but he thought it was slightly ridiculous to get all dressed up when Castiel was coming over so they could take all of their clothes _off_. He chose his good jeans and a simple, snug grey t-shirt. He applied deodorant twice and spritzed himself with once with the expensive woodsy cologne his mother bought him for Christmas last year. He still shook with excitement and he nearly jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

**[Cas: What time would you like me to head over?]**

**_[Come anytime.]_ **

**[Cas: Well, I’d rather come when I’m with you.]**

Dean laughed. Cas was getting to be a snarky little devil. Even though Dean knew he was just teasing, it sent an involuntary shiver up his spine to think about Cas coming beneath him again. He loved the way Castiel’s eyes would grow impossibly wide when he was riding the edge of orgasm, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. And when they’d rut together on Cas’ bed, his hair would stick in all directions, thanks partly to them rolling around and fighting for dominance and also from Dean grabbing his dark locks and tugging at them while he kissed the other boy senseless. His skin was growing hot and his pants growing tighter from images of Castiel’s kiss-bitten lips and pleasure-flushed face running through his mind. He had to get ahold of himself or he wouldn’t last ten seconds once Cas got in the door.

While he was waiting for Castiel to arrive, he quickly kicked all of Chuck’s things to his side of the room, hiding them under his bed or stuffing them into the closet, attempting to make the room look halfway decent. Now that Cas was on his way over, everything seemed so unrefined and undeserving. Cas deserved better. He was going to hate this. There was no way Castiel would want to lose his virginity to Dean in some shitty dorm, on a twin-size bed, and with people living in rooms all down the hallway. Dean was panicking. When a knock sounded at the door, he immediately jumped off his bed and flung the door open, revealing a very delicious looking Castiel.

Cas’ hair was windswept, sticking out wildly, and messy in that wonderful way that Dean loved. Under his thick black coat he wore a blue sweater that almost matched the hue of his eyes, making them stand out just a bit brighter than usual. The dark grey jeans he wore were hugging him in all the right places, and Dean swore he could see a bulge already present in the front, pressing insistently against the seams and betraying Cas’ seemingly calm exterior. Dean swallowed nervously, realizing he should probably _say something_ instead of just stand in his doorway drooling at Cas, but when he looked up to do so he saw Cas raking his eyes over him in much the same manner. When their eyes met, Dean could see that Cas’ pupils had swallowed up most of the color in his irises and it made him feel positively _lewd_ just looking at him.

Castiel was the first of them to make a movement, placing both of his hands on Dean’s shoulders and stroking down over his biceps as he stepped forward in his personal space. Cas’ tongue darted out to swipe once over his plump, dry lips and he stood on his toes to close the last few inches between them, pressing his lips right against Dean’s. It was soft at first; a graze of lips to say hello while their vocal cords seemed to fail. As the press of their lips got tighter, more demanding, Castiel removed his hands from Dean’s arms and shed his own coat. He tossed it somewhere to the side and started pushing Dean backward into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He pulled away from Dean just long enough to turn around and lock the door. He returned to Dean in seconds, circling his arms around his neck and pressing light kisses against his neck and jaw. The delicious scrape and burn of stubble on stubble was making Dean’s hair stand on end and he had to get control of the situation before he completely lost it.

He brought his hands up to cup Castiel’s face, pulling him back slightly to look him in the eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this, Cas?”

Castiel frowned. “Of course I do, Dean. Why? D-do you not want to?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all. I do, Cas, I swear. I want you more than anything right now. I’ve been freaking the fuck out all day long, but it’s just that…”

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas took a step back and grabbed both of Dean’s hands. His face was contorted with worry.

Dean sighed. “I just think you deserve better than this, you know? We’re in a dorm. There’s a ton of people living here and it’s a shitty little bed and, I don’t know, I just feel like what I’m offering you is really inadequate.”

Castiel immediately relaxed. “Is that all? Dean, I don’t care where we are, I’m just glad that I’m with you. We can _attempt_ to be quiet, but I’m sure we aren’t the first students to have sex in a residence hall. However, that does remind me, I brought something.”

Dean gave him a curious look and Castiel stepped away to where he threw his coat. He dug something out of the pocket and brought it back to Dean. It was a burned CD.

“I thought we could play this to, you know, drown out as much noise as we could.”

Dean grinned. “You came prepared, huh?”

Castiel blushed. “I-I also brought condoms and lubricant.”

“I, uh, I got some too. I bought ‘em this morning.” Dean could feel his face heating up as well and he ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Hey, at least we’ll have plenty left over for next time, right?”

Castiel bit his lip shyly and nodded. Dean took the CD from him and went to place it in the CD drive of his laptop. “So, what’s on here?”

He heard the springs on his bed shifting slightly as Castiel sat down. “I know that you enjoy listening to classic rock and I prefer more modern music, so I put together a mixture of instrumental music without words. I thought that, maybe, if I were to find music without words it would lessen the chance of us being negatively affected by the lyrics of songs we dislike It is mostly moderately heavy alternative beats with plenty of bass.”

Dean was impressed. He opened the media player on his computer and let the music filter into the room. Cas was right, bass was the first thing he registered as the low, heavy sounds filled the air. There was a slow, crooning guitar added to the mix, giving the music a Guns N’ Roses-like melody but with a heavy, booming baritone quality in the drums.

Dean turned back to Cas, which proved to be very dangerous, as the other boy had shed his sweater and was watching Dean very ill-disguised _want_. Dean’s eyes roamed over the pale expanse of Cas’ chest, aching to reach out and rub the pads of his thumbs over each dusty pink nipple. Cas’ nipples weren’t all that sensitive, like Dean’s, but the area just around them gave him goosebumps every time Dean would trace circles around it with his tongue, paying special attention to the cute little freckle above the right one. He stepped toward Cas, pulling his own shirt off on the way. He heard Cas’ sharp intake of breath and allowed himself to swell with pride. He leaned down to kiss Cas once more, planting one hand beside Cas’ hip on the bed and putting the other against his ribs. His thumb stroked at the smooth skin in the dips between the bones and he started to push, urging Cas backward on the bed. He was confused, however, when Cas just pulled back and shook his head. The blue-eyed little vixen before him just stood up, guided Dean backward by a few steps, and then dropped to his knees.

_Oh._

Dean’s eyes widened as he stared at Castiel kneeling before him on the ground, his fingers quickly undoing the buttons and zipper of Dean’s pants. The muscles in Dean’s stomach quivered as he watched the deft fingers grasp the waistband of his jeans and tug them down until they were pooled around his ankles. Castiel then looked up at Dean, meeting his eyes as he gently lifted each of his legs to release them from the garment. Castiel threw the jeans aside and then turned back to Dean. He pressed his face into Dean’s stomach, planting small kisses across his skin and making the muscles jump beneath his lips. Dean was panting already and Cas had hardly even touched him. Cas’ fingers slid, feather light, from Dean’s ankles up along the length of his legs leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When Cas’ hands made their way to his thighs, he dug his fingertips into the muscle there and pressed his face closer to nuzzle into the front of Dean’s boxers.

“Nnngh, Cas,” Dean’s hand flew to the back of Cas’ head and he closed his eyes. This was the closest Cas had ever gotten to his cock. Their pants had never been removed and not even Cas’ _hand_ had touched him before, but now his fucking _face_ was pressed right up against him. And, holy shit, Cas was moaning up against the fabric, sending sweet, sinful vibrations straight through the material and onto Dean’s already overheated skin.

Cas moved his fingers up to the waistband of the boxers and looked up at Dean. “Dean,” he whispered. “Dean, can I?”

Dean nodded, beyond words at this point, and Castiel smiled at him. The tiny little quirk of his lips was so innocent in comparison to the act he was committing. Dean was doomed. Cas hooked his fingers under the elastic and mouthed over the outline of Dean’s rigid flesh through fabric once before pulling the offending garment slowly down his legs. His cock sprang free and Cas wasted no time in capturing the flushed tip between his lips. He let the tip of his tongue discover all the ridges and curves of the veins under Dean’s flesh and gave a soft, tentative nibble at the foreskin before letting the flat of his tongue soothe over the same spot. Dean’s eyes crossed. Cas was so innocent in technique, suckling lightly at the head, rubbing his lips over the slit and smearing precome over them like chapstick; only to lap it off with his tongue and whimper at the taste. Yep. Doomed.

Cas gripped Dean’s cock in his hand and gave a few experimental tugs. “Dean,” he whispered, his breath coming in puffs over Dean’s cockhead. “So hot.”

Dean was about to respond, telling Cas he wasn’t so bad himself, but Cas closed his lips around his cock again and all the air was pulled from Dean’s lungs. Cas was growing bolder, taking Dean deeper into his mouth and running his tongue around the length of his cock.

Dean slid his fingers into Cas’ hair and tugged him back. His mouth slid off of Dean with a small pop and he looked up at Dean with wet, swollen lips and glazed eyes. “Cas, you gotta stop or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

Castiel smirked at him and stood, immediately reaching up to crash his mouth into Dean’s. Dean accepted him immediately, sucking the taste of his own precome off of Cas’ tongue. Dean let his hands wander down to the button of Cas’ jeans so he could get the other boy just as bare as he was. When both his jeans and boxers were thrown to the side of the room, Dean stepped back and allowed his eyes to rake over Castiel’s body; from his flushed, panting lips all the way down to his cock, hanging heavy and dripping between his legs. Dean couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips. He manhandled Castiel onto the bed and pushed their hips together, both boys keening as their cocks slid together, hot and electric.

“W-where’s the lube?” Cas rasped, his voice gravelly and deep. Dean mouthed over his pulse point, using one hand to blindly grasp at his bedside table. “Dean,” he whimpered. “I can’t wait to fuck you, Dean. I’ve been thinking about it since that night on the phone.”

Dean bit down lightly on Castiel’s skin, earning him a sharp intake of breath. “Me too, Cas. Fucking jerked off to the thought of fucking you like six times just this week.”

Cas turned his head and captured Dean’s earlobe between his teeth. He tugged lightly and then ran his tongue over the skin, soothing a mark that wasn’t there. “D-do you want me to stretch you out or would you be more comfortable if you did it yourself?”

_Whoa there._

Dean immediately pulled away and sat back, straddling Castiel’s hips. “Uh…”

Cas frowned and lifted himself up onto his elbows. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Cas, I’m, uh, I’m not a bottom.”

Cas paled. “W-what? I thought…But Dean, you were fingering yourself on the phone.”

Dean blushed. He had actually forgotten about telling Cas that he liked to rub his fingers around his hole while he jerked off. “I wasn’t, like, really fingering myself. I was just, kind of like, I just touch.”

“Have you topped in all of your other relationships?”

Dean tilted his head. “Cas, what…? I told you I messed around with a few guys, I’ve never fucked any of them.”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide. “What? I thought that was what messing around was? So you-you’re a virgin too?”

“Yeah. This is really, really awkward.” Castiel nodded. “I can’t believe you just assumed I was a bottom.”

Castiel sighed. “You assumed that I was as well, Dean. How is that any different?”

Dean fidgeted. “Well, you’re a little smaller than me, you know? I don’t know, I guess the dynamics just kind of made sense that way?”

“Dean,” he could practically hear the eye-roll in Castiel’s voice. “Topping is not about size. It is about allowing someone you trust to take control of your pleasure. Or so I read, I mean.”

Dean grinned at him. “You read up on fucking before you came here?”

“No! Well, yes, but I’ve been reading erotic literature for much longer than that. I find visual pornography too impersonal so I prefer to read erotica or just use my memory.”

Dean chuckled and leaned down to kiss him. “Well, what made you think I was a bottom, then?”

Castiel snaked his arms around Dean’s waist. “You are so dominant in your everyday life, Dean. Your personality commands a room as soon as you walk in and you radiate bravado. Whenever I think about you, you know, sexually, I imagine you being taken care of instead of being the one caring for someone else."

“What the hell are we gonna do, Cas?”

Castiel chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “I-I suppose I could try bottoming.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to, Cas. You know that, right?”

“I want to, Dean. Who knows, maybe I am a bottom. How can I know if I never try, right?”

Dean smiled at him and reached for the bottle of lube. He shifted on the bed so he was no longer straddling Cas’ hips, but had his knees between Cas’ legs, spreading them open. A blush was spreading from Castiel’s cheeks and slowly making its way down his chest. By the way his hands were twitching by his sides, Dean could tell that he was fighting to not cover himself.

“You shouldn’t be shy, Cas,” Dean said as he leaned forward, planting a kiss beside Castiel’s navel. “You’re so hot.”

He coated two of his fingers with the slippery substance and moved his mouth lower. In the midst of the awkward conversation, Cas had managed to stay rock hard, so Dean lowered his mouth to finally get his first taste of Castiel. A tiny whimper was released above Dean as he dipped his tongue into the slit of Cas’ cock. He raised his other hand, the one not coated in lube, to gently cradle Cas’ balls. He let the pads of his fingers ghost over the soft skin while he licked stripes up and down Cas’ rigid cock. The soft mewls coming from Castiel as Dean swallowed him down were downright sinful. The noises that came from the blue eyed boy’s mouth never failed to get Dean going; like Cas’ voice was hardwired right to Dean’s cock. Dean brought one of his slick fingers to press against the soft skin behind Cas’ balls, letting him get used to a touch in such a foreign place, before slowly trailing back to his target. Once he reached the untouched pucker of Cas’ hole, he rubbed soft, gentle circles over the whorl of flesh; this was as much to tease Cas as it was to help him relax and spread the slickness around the area. Cas was breathing heavily, occasionally letting a tiny moan slip through his lips as new and undiscovered nerves were ignited for the very first time. Dean slicked up his first two fingers again for good measure and pressed the tip of one against Cas’ entrance.

“Relax for me, Cas, okay?” he whispered, right above Cas’ cock. Castiel nodded and Dean suckled at the crown again, running his tongue along the tiny bundle of nerves just beneath, hoping that the small sparks of pleasure running through his cock would help distract Cas from the painful stretch and burn of first intrusion. Dean slowly slid one finger in, millimeter by millimeter, listening for any sign of pain from above. Castiel was quiet, but his body went rigid, immediately trying to reject Dean’s finger. Dean moved his mouth lower, trailing his lips down Cas’ heated, velvety shaft until he reached the smooth sac below. He let has tongue lave over the skin and he heard Cas’ small shudder of breath and then he felt him relax. He let his finger penetrate deeper inside of the other boy, thrusting in and out several times before lubing up once more and letting two fingers circle the rim. Castiel snarled when Dean pressed two fingers into him, his stomach muscles clenching and his back arching slightly off the bed. Unfortunately, this was not a pleasant arch.

“Dean,” Castiel panted. “When is it supposed to feel good?”

Dean pulled his mouth away from Castiel’s groin and used his dry hand to rub reassuring circles at his inner thighs. “Just lemme find that spot, Cas.” He knew once he got his fingers deep enough, and once Castiel’s body welcomed him, that he could find Cas’ prostate and finally let Cas feel the good parts of sex. Dean personally knew the joys of prostate stimulation, but had never indulged in it by himself. He’d let Aaron finger him once, but the whole process had been awkward and slow-building, so while the pads of Aaron’s finger against his prostate threw sparks up his spine and into his groin, it was an experience he never let anyone else repeat. He let his fingers work in and out of Cas, adding lube once more, and once he felt the muscles relaxing slightly he began to bend his fingers, scissoring them, shifting them in order to bring more of a stretch and also to search out that tiny button inside. Dean knew when he found it because Castiel hissed through his teeth.

Dean smirked at him. “Good?”

Castiel made a pained sound in the back of his throat. “I…I don’t…no.”

“No?” Dean repeated, confused. He tried again, more gently this time, but Cas just let out a tiny _ah!_ And jerked back. Dean removed his fingers and wiped them on the bedsheets. “Is that hurting you, Cas?”

Castiel sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. “It isn’t feeling good like it’s supposed to, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean scooted closer to him and pulled him into a short, sweet kiss. “You have nothing to apologize for, Cas. We can try again another time if you want to.”

Castiel just shook his head. “I-I read on the internet that some men don’t feel pleasure from prostate stimulation like others do. What if that’s me, Dean? What if it hurts me every time? What if we can’t ever have sex because my insides are broken?”

Dean looked at Cas, who was near tears, and he felt his chest tighten.  There was only one solution, apparently. “Cas, there is nothing wrong with you. If that’s true, then it is what it is. I guess…I guess I can bottom, if you still want to try, that is?”

Castiel glanced up at him, his eyes darkening immediately. “Y-you’d do that for me? What If you don’t like it either?”

“Well, I already know that fingers feel good, so let’s try it.”

Castiel lunged at Dean. Within seconds their places were switched and Dean was on his back, his whole body bared to Castiel’s lips, teeth, and tongue. Cas took his time licking and nipping paths from Dean’s throat down to his navel, finally letting his lips ghost over his cock once more. He took a lesson from Dean and let his suckling at the skin of Dean’s cock distract him from the breaching of his first finger. One finger, no problem. Castiel wiggled the digit back and forth, moving in a come-hither motion, willing Dean’s muscles to relax around him. Soon the first finger was joined by a second, well lubed digit, and both fingers plunged into him. The stretch was only painful for a few seconds, but it had his erection flagging minutely even in the confines of Castiel’s lips. Cas’ fingers scissored and stretched him before giving a few experimental crooks and jabs. About four strokes in, Dean saw stars.

“Nnngh, FUCK, Cas!”

Castiel stopped, pulling away from Dean’s cock and removing his fingers immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

Dean shook his head violently. “N-no, that was it. Do that again.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. He applied a few more drops of lube to his fingers and teased them around Dean’s rim again before plunging back into him. Cas moved his fingers, searching again for that one spot, and when he found it he had to pin Dean’s hips down to the bed with his other hand.

“There?” Cas asked, smirking at him. He rubbed his fingers in slow circles on Dean’s inner walls, making sure he brushed the tiny bundle of nerves inside with every other stroke.

Dean flushed and nodded, trying to fuck himself back on Cas’ fingers. He whined when Cas removed the digits again, only to come back with a third well lubed finger added to the mix. Cas spent what felt like hours teasing his fingers in and out of Dean’s hole, stretching him and bringing him to the edge of orgasm several times before Dean finally propped himself up with one hand and gripped a hand almost painfully tight in Cas’ hair. The raven-haired tease looked at him and licked his lips.

“I love watching my fingers disappear into you, Dean.”

Dean groaned and dragged Cas up to him, their lips meeting in a near-brutal, desperate kiss. “Just fuck me already, would you?”

Cas nodded and grabbed the packet of condoms from the nightstand. He quickly plucked one out of the box and tore the package open with his teeth. Dean watched him roll the condom onto his considerable length through hooded eyes, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips and squirming in Cas’ general direction.

Finally, he pressed the tip of his cock against Dean’s slick entrance. “Okay?” Cas asked him.

Dean just nodded and circled his legs around Cas’ waist, urging him forward with his heels. Cas bent over him and guided himself into Dean’s body. It burned. Boy, did it burn. Even with all of the preparation, Dean could still feel the stretch as Castiel’s cock filled him up. But none of that even mattered because, well, because Cas was _filling him up_. Castiel pushed himself in agonizingly slow, and both boys groaned when he was finally fully sheathed inside, their hips flush against one another. He could feel Castiel’s dick throbbing inside of him and he swears he could feel every ridge and vein on the solid flesh. Castiel had lubed him up well, so after only a few seconds he began to grind his hips upward in small circles.

“S’ok, Cas, you can move.”

Castiel nodded and pulled back slightly, only to push forward again. He kept his thrusts short and shallow until Dean could hardly even register any pain at all. Dean brought one of his hands up to Castiel’s flank and dug his nails into the skin. The other hand trailed itself up to grip once again in Cas’ messy locks He pulled Castiel down to him until their lips were nearly touching, just sharing the same breath.

“Harder,” he whispered. “I’m not gonna break.”

Castiel growled, a deep rumble emenating from his chest. He braced his hands on either side of Dean’s head and moved his hips back, pulling almost all of the way out of Dean. Before Dean could complain, he slammed himself back in, earning himself a long, drawn out moan. Cas kept his pace slow, but forceful, each thrust hard enough to have the bedframe slamming up against the wall. Dean grabbed at Cas’ hips, his back, the tops of his thighs; digging his fingertips and nails into every available patch of skin he could reach. Dean was sweating now, a light sheen glistening on his skin and he could see the same on Castiel. He stared at the face of his lover, his _boyfriend_ , the beautiful, strong, filthy hot sex-god that was currently fucking him into the mattress, and he swelled with adoration. Adoration and crazy, batshit insane amounts of pleasure. Cas had been hitting that spot deep inside of him every few thrust, keeping Dean teetering on the edge of _too much_ and _not enough_. Any traces of uncertainty had left his body long ago and his cock was back to being diamond-hard and ready to blow. He knew he was going to come soon, and he could tell Castiel was too; from the flush decorating his upper body, to the tightening of his stomach muscles, and Dean could even feel the impossibly harder throb of his cock deep inside of him.

“Gonna come soon,” he rasped, grabbing ahold of his own cock and jerking slowly

Castiel nodded and moaned in agreement. He leaned over, licking around the shell of Dean’s ear, sending shivers over his already over sensitized skin. “So fucking tight, Dean.” He murmured. “Love fucking you, love being inside you, want you to come.”

After that, Castiel pulled away, straightening his back and moving his hands over Dean’s entire body, settling at his hips. He grabbed Dean hard enough to bruise and reset his punishing pace, but from this angle, Castiel was jabbing roughly at his prostate at nearly every thrust. Dean squealed, _yes squealed_ , and dug one hand into the bedsheets while the other was furiously stripping his own cock. His hips moved of their own volition, meeting Castiel’s thrusts and adding to the intensity. Suddenly, it was like a spring had let loose in his groin. His eyes crossed as his orgasm was punched out of him, painting his own hand and both his and Castiel’s stomach with his release. The visual proved to be too much for Cas because seconds later his hips stuttered and he growled as his own orgasm took over.

Cas collapsed on top of him and they both lay panting for what seemed like hours. Cas gently removed himself from Dean’s body, both boys wincing as he pulled out. He tied off the condom and threw it into the trash bin by the bed. Dean stretched himself out, noting that he was going to be sore as all fuck the next day, but he didn’t care because it would be a firm reminder that Cas was there, _in him_. They both shifted on the bed, managing to huddle under the blankets facing one another and sharing shy smiles. They were both still flushed and panting, but that didn’t stop them from kissing until their limited air supply had dwindled again. Finally, Dean sighed.

Castiel frowned. “What’s wrong, Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean just scooted closer to Cas. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I really am a bottom though, huh?”

Cas chuckled. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, next time you can ride me. Topping from the bottom and all that.”


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel was going to die. Yes, he was going to die and it was going to be all Dean Winchester’s fault. But, oh, what a way to go.

 

 

Both boys were sore from their first round and almost instantly fell asleep when they’d bundled under the covers together. When Castiel’s eyes fluttered open a short few hours later, he was immediately greeted by the sight of Dean straddling his thighs with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open. He had one hand steadying himself on the bed and the other reaching behind himself and… _holy shit._

“D-Dean,” he whimpered. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he smirked at Castiel. “Are you…are you fingering yourself?”

Dean bit his lip and nodded. He kept his fingers moving inside of him while he spoke. “Was gonna- _ahhh-_ was gonna get myself all nice and open for you and then wa- _jesusfuck_ -wake you up with my mouth on – _ohgodCasfuck­-_ on your cock. Wanted to get you all rock hard so I can ride you a-and- _godddddfuckyes-_ and, you know, top from the bottom…”

Castiel’s mouth went dry. Dean was fingering himself. Dean was getting himself ready to ride his cock. _For the love of God, Dean was straddling his legs with his fingers in his ass and groaning like a whore._ Cas’ dick had joined the party in a split second, throbbing and yearning to be back inside Dean. Castiel sat up, wiggling out of from under the blanket and reached for Dean. He ran one hand over his chest and brought the other to his cheek, and Dean tilted his head, butting into his hand like a contented cat. Castiel swept forward, capturing Dean’s lips in a kiss, soft at first but quickly growing into a desperate, wet, messy thing. Their teeth clacked together and Dean’s continuous moaning was sending a rumbling vibration from his own mouth and straight into Castiel’s. He ghosted his hand over Dean’s chest and made his way around his body to join Dean’s hand at his entrance. Dean pulled his lips back and gasped as Castiel’s finger traced around his already stretched rim.

“Do it,” he whispered.

Castiel shuddered as he searched the bed for the lube. Once he found it, he coated his fingers generously and returned his hand to meet Dean’s. Dean had two fingers inside of himself and he was scissoring them, stretching himself open. Castiel prodded at the stretched hole, and finally slipping the tip in, listening to Dean hiss in his ear. Dean brought the hand not currently fucking himself up to Castiel’s neck, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging him closer. He latched his mouth onto Castiel’s throat, sucking blood to the surface and leaving his marks all across the column of pale skin. Castiel let his finger prod deeper, slowly at first until he felt Dean relax into it, and then he matched Dean’s own pace and fucked his fingers into him with harsh, teasing jabs.

Dean was moaning directly into his ear now, muttering filthy things. Castiel wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying at the moment, just letting his mouth run and spew out all the pornographic images that were flashing in his mind. Some of them, _jesus_ ,some of the things he was saying made Castiel have to grip his own cock to stave off orgasm. Dean’s hand was still twisting in the hair at the nape of Cas’ neck, his lips at his ear as he spouted off obscene promises.

“Jesus fuck, Cas,” he breathed. “Gonna push you back on the bed and ride you into the mattress. Want that? Gonna get your cock back inside me, can’t wait, Cas, can’t fucking wait. Fucking glad I bottomed, baby, nothing better than having your fucking cock inside me. _Fuuuck,_ right there, fuck me with your fingers.”

Castiel was losing control. He needed to fuck Dean _now._ He pulled his finger away and quickly wiped the excess lube on the bedsheet before grabbing Dean’s face in his hand and crushing their mouths together. He grasped at Dean’s wrist, pulling his fingers away from his hole as well and Dean was quick to push Castiel back on the bed. Dean grabbed a condom from the box and the lube and tossed them on the bed beside them. Castiel was confused for a moment, he’d thought they were getting on with the main event so why was Dean throwing the things aside? Confusion was soon washed away, though, as Dean swooped down and swallowed Castiel’s cock down to the root in one go. Castiel’s eyes bulged, his hands flying to Dean’s too-short locks. Dean was swallowing around the tip of his cock, making happy, impure sounds like Castiel’s dick was the most delicious thing he’d ever had in his mouth. Castiel’s stomach muscles tightened and he pushed at Dean’s head in warning. There was no way he was going to let himself come before he fucked Dean. Dean seemed to understand this and he smirked at Castiel. He grabbed the condom and tore it open impatiently, rolling it onto Castiel’s cock and then slathering it with a generous amount of lube. Dean crawled over Castiel, planting his knees on either side of his hips and bending down to give him one last kiss before grasping Castiel’s covered cock and guiding it back to his entrance. He rubbed the tip around his hole and took a few deep breaths before finally sinking back. He closed his eyes as the head of Castiel’s cock breached him and Castiel’s hands flew up to his hips, rubbing soothing circles into his hipbones.

“Go slow,” Castiel told him quietly.

Dean took another breath and then opened his eyes, meeting Castiel’s in a bold stare. “ _Fuck that.”_

With that, he impaled himself on Castiel’s dick and both boys shouted out a string of curses. Dean was impossibly tight around him, the heat near maddening. His hands squeezed Dean’s hips, littering his skin with fingertip shaped bruises. Dean was undulating above him, rolling his hips around and letting his body get used to Castiel being this deep inside of him. Dean was letting out tiny mewling noises with every roll of his hips, and Castiel soon realized that Dean was grinding Castiel’s cock on his prostate. Castiel whimpered and threw his head back. Death by sex, what a good way to go.

And then, Dean. Started. Moving.

He grabbed at Castiel’s wrists where they sat on his hips and he lifted himself slowly off of Castiel’s cock. He ran his hands all the way up Castiel’s arms and settled his hands on either side of his head. Once he’d braced himself, he let his hips grind backward again, sliding back down Castiel’s dick and pulling a groan from low in his belly. It took only a few slow thrusts backward for Dean to build up a rhythm. He impaled himself again and again on Castiel’s cock, setting a punishing pace and moaning as his own neglected cock rubbed up against Castiel’s belly. Castiel moved one of his hands from Dean’s hip and wrapped it around Dean’s cock. He stroked Dean, matching his backward thrusts, and babbled out his approval as Dean continued to bounce on top of him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. His hand flew faster up and down the length of Dean’s cock. “Dean, god, fuck, so hot. So good. Almost there, Dean- _sonofabitch_ -come, Dean, need you to come for me.”

Dean straightened himself up, letting one of his hands come off the bed to join Castiel’s on his own cock. He closed his fingers overtop and together they gently squeezed and tugged at his cock until his thigh muscles started to lock up and his balls drew tight to his body, warning them of his impending orgasm. It was only seconds until Dean growled and his hand stuttered over Castiel’s. His cock let loose a stream of come covering both of their hands and painting stripes up Castiel’s chest. Castiel was close behind, Dean’s orgasm forcing the muscles of his ass to constrict impossibly tight around his cock, milking him. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s back and pulled him down to his chest, thrusting up into him roughly once, twice, and a third time until he had spilled into the condom. They lay together for a few moments, neither willing to move. They continued much the same as they had after their first round, ridding Castiel’s cock of the condom and settling side by side into the bed.

“How long do we have until Chuck gets back?” Castiel asked.

Dean snorted. “All night, babe. Why? You thinking about round three already?”

Castiel didn’t respond. He just lunged at Dean and kissed him senseless until both of their bodies had rejuvenated enough for another go. He figured that was enough of a yes for Dean.


	16. Chapter 16

All it took was once and Dean was addicted. He was obsessed with the way Cas tasted, the way he smelled, the bright flush that spread across his skin while Cas was moving inside of him; he was completely and utterly attached to the way it felt to have Castiel’s body against his own. He touched Castiel every chance he got, let himself be touched, and let Castiel fuck him over every single surface of both of their dorms. They had conveniently decided _not_ to tell Chuck about the time they fucked on the floor because they were too impatient to actually make it to Dean’s bed, and when Dean had needed to grip something for leverage as Castiel fucked into him from behind, he ended up gripping the side of Chuck’s bed and letting Cas slam him into it repeatedly. For two straight weeks they split their time between classes, studying for midterms, and ripping each other’s clothes off at every available opportunity.

“I’m going to fail this midterm,” Dean whined for the thousandth time. He and Castiel were sitting on the floor of Cas’ room both surrounded by piles of their own notes. It was a Tuesday night and after their last midterms the next day, KU’s Thanksgiving break would officially begin.

Cas just rolled his eyes. “Dean, you are going to be fine. You know your Chem 2 flashcards backward and forward. Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dean replied. “You actually knew all of your course material before you even came to college, ya nerd. I don’t want to be a damn chemist when I graduate, I just want to build some sweet ass cars. I don’t need to know the components of Thiocyanate to build cars, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel replied with a small smile.

Dean tossed his notes aside. “You know, I actually don’t think I ever asked you what you were doing with your degree. I know you’re doing Religious Studies but what are you going to do with it?”

Cas just shrugged. “I am probably going to do the same thing as my father and my grandfather. I don’t practice religion as they do, but I find the study of organized religion to be very fascinating. My grandfather taught at Harvard and my father wrote books and teaches all over the country, so teaching is in my DNA I suppose.”

Dean nodded and nudged Castiel’s foot with his own. “Well, I’m glad you won’t be my teacher. No way I’d ever get anything done in a class you taught.”

Cas snorted and shook his head. “Quit flirting, Dean. We’re studying for midterms.”

Dean smirked and picked his notes up again, shuffling through the papers for a few seconds before looking back at his boyfriend. “So, you’re still planning on coming home with me tomorrow night, right?”

“Yes, Dean. I haven’t changed my mind since you asked me _this morning_.”

“Hey, can’t blame me for making sure. I don’t want you getting nervous and backing out last minute. My mom is, like, stupidly excited to meet you.”

Castiel’s face grew pink and Dean grinned; a flustered, blushing Castiel was a cute one. The Sunday after their first time sleeping together Dean had called his mother to ask if she minded that he was bringing someone home. That, of course, meant she spent the next two hours trying to figure out where they’d met, how long they’d known each other, how long they’d been together, if Cas was cute, and Dean had finally cut her off when she asked if they were being _safe_. There are just some things you don’t talk to your mother about, and in Dean Winchester’s book, gay sex was one of them. When Dean told Castiel the first time that his mother was excited to meet him, Cas had immediately gone red in the face and started babbling about being bad with family holidays and not owning nice enough clothes and _‘oh god, Dean, what if they don’t like me?!’_ So, yeah, flustered and blushing Castiel was cute.

“They’re going to like you just fine, Cas,” Dean assured him. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

Castiel grimaced. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he closed his notebook and stacked all of his school things in a neat pile beside him. “Can we please stop talking about this now? I’ll quiz you on your cards again.”

Dean put his things aside as well and handed the cards to Cas. They spent the next two hours quizzing each other and eventually fell asleep curled up in Cas’ bed. More often than not in the last two weeks, they’d spent the night together because Castiel’s roommate seemed to be nonexistent. The only evidence that he was actually a real person was the fact that Dean and Cas had both woken up once just in time to see his bookbag clad back disappearing out the door.

Just as Cas had said, Dean breezed through his most worrisome midterm, and if the jubilant texts were any indication, Cas had done well on his Greek Mythology test also. Dean finished his Chem 2 final in record time and he and Cas celebrated by going to the Mean Bean for coffee and lunch. Later that day, Cas filled an essay prompt for his World Literature midterm and Dean had to perform various car maintenance procedures in Workshop. Midterms were easy as pie.  What was considerably _less_ easy, was getting Cas to pack for the holiday break. It was 7:30 and they had a half hour drive to Topeka, but Cas was standing in front of his tiny closet having a panic attack about what to wear for Thanksgiving with Dean’s family. He had a duffel bag on his bed with a few outfits thrown in but he was visibly shaking with anxiety over which vest to bring for the holiday. It took him another ten minutes to finally decide on the plain black vest to wear with a royal blue button down and red tie, because Dean told him that it brought out his eyes and made him look downright fuckable. At first Cas had said he didn’t want to look fuckable in front of Dean’s parents, but when Dean promised he could control himself, his boyfriend finally relented and neatly repacked his duffel so they could leave.

It was a smooth ride from Lawrence to Topeka, although Cas was quiet the entire ride. Dean knew he was just keeping silent due to nervousness so he kept the air filled with a constant stream of conversation.  He spoke to Cas about how his family had come to live in Topeka years ago. His parents got married in Lawrence and settled there up until right after Sam was born. Their house had caught fire and instead of looking for a new one in the area, his father relocated his construction company to Topeka, the bigger city giving him plenty more opportunity for business. Cas had only stopped him once to make sure he had Dean’s mom and dad’s names correct for the billionth time. Once they entered the city limits, Dean began pointing out his favorite burger joints, old hangouts, and the high school he used to attend; Cas listening silently the whole time. Once Dean announced that they were in his neighborhood, Castiel’s leg started to bounce and he began fidgeting, Dean had to fight not to laugh. _He’s just so freaking cute._

When they pulled up to the house, Castiel froze in his seat. Dean urged him out and walked to the trunk to retrieve their bags before grabbing Cas’ hand in his own and pulling him toward the house. His family home was a beige, two-story ranch style home, with a small porch that housed a small porchswing just barely big enough for two people. When the two boys walked up the steps to the front door, Dean could hear the television through the walls. Without knocking, he opened the front door slowly, feeling Castiel grip his hand almost painfully tight. Upon entering he saw his father seated at the couch in the front room with a pre-recorded college football game playing on the flatscreen. John Winchester looked up when he heard the door shut and he immediately grinned when he saw his son.

“Hey, bud, glad you made it here safe,” he greeted as he stood up. “Mary!”

He heard footsteps parading down the stairs, too ungraceful to be his mother, and seconds later his moose of a brother stampeded into the room, all smiles.

“About time, jerk,” Sam said with a grin.

“Ah, shut up, bitch,” he replied.

His dad nudged his should. “Language, Dean.”

Dean immediately snorted and tried to cover it up by clearing his throat and mumbling an apology.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam greeted.

Castiel gave Sam a tiny wave and Dean’s father looked up, noticing for the first time that Dean wasn’t alone. “Oh, right, this is your…uh…”

“Boyfriend,” Dean finished.

“Right,” John replied in a gruff voice. John knew that Dean was gay, as did the rest of his family, but he was still uncomfortable using the term ‘boyfriend’ in reference to his son’s dates. It had been that way ever since Dean went on his first date with another boy in the ninth grade. John stuck out a hand to Castiel, which he obediently took for a short, but firm handshake. “It’s, uh, good to meet you, kid. Hey, Mary!” John called again, turning toward the stairs. “You coming to see your son or what?”

Another set of feet made their way down the stairs, and moments later Dean’s mother came around the corner with her arms held wide in expectation. Dean dropped the bags and let go of Castiel’s hand, feeling the waves of anxiousness rolling off of him, and allowed his mother to give him a bone-crushing hug.

He stepped back after a moment and laughed. “Calm down there, ma, you saw me like two weeks ago.”

Mary just raised her eyebrows at him. “Hush your mouth, boy. A mother is allowed to miss her son when he goes away.” She turned her gaze on Cas then and smiled. “You must be Castiel.”

Castiel nodded and extended a slightly shaky hand. “Yes. It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Winchester.”

Mary shook his hand, patting it with the other one. “Please, call me Mary. Are you hungry? Have you boys eaten dinner yet?”

Castiel responded with “Yes, we’ve eaten” just as Dean said “What did you make?” causing Castiel to snort and then immediately start blushing.

“What’re you laughing at, hmm?” Dean asked him with a smirk.

“Your stomach is a bottomless pit, Dean,” Cas replied.

Mary hummed in agreement before picking their bags up off the floor. “You think he’s bad now, Castiel? You should have seen him when he was thirteen. It was his first big growth spurt and he was starving all the time. It was a miracle if you caught him without food in his hands.”

Castiel laughed. “I wholeheartedly believe that.”

Mary smiled and continued. “It was the cutest thing. He ate so much when he first went through puberty and he started getting these incredibly chubby cheeks and this little pudge right arou-“

“MOM _,_ ” Dean interrupted.

Mary’s lips slammed shut and she looked at Dean with innocent eyes. “What’s the matter, honey?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her and she patted his cheek. Castiel brought his hand up to his mouth to cover a tiny giggle that escape his lips. Mary handed Dean the bags and told him to take them upstairs to his room while she fixed him a plate of leftovers. After making sure Cas really wasn’t hungry, she promised him a peek at Dean’s baby pictures later on and sent them upstairs. Once they were in Dean’s room with the door closed, Dean dropped the bags on the bed and tugged Castiel close to him.

“Not so bad, right?” he asked.

Castiel nodded. “Your mother is nice. Your father too.”

Dean kissed him, just a short, sweet thing, and then stepped back. “I told you that you had nothing to worry about. But,” he said, pointing a finger at Cas’ face. “I forbid you to become BFFs with my mom. That whole baby picture extravaganza is so not happening.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.”

Before Dean could respond, his mother called him downstairs and Cas followed dutifully behind. John was back in front of the television, Sam now planted on the other couch. Castiel sat on the opposite end of Sam’s couch and looked at the TV, pretending to be interested in the game while Dean joined his mother in the kitchen. When he walked in she was pulling a bowl from the microwave.

“So,” she started and handed him a bowl of spaghetti. “Castiel is very cute, Dean.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, ma.”

She clutched her chest dramatically. “What do you mean? I would never embarrass you in front of your very good looking boyfriend, Dean. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

He grumbled at her under his breath and made his way to the family room to sit by his boyfriend.  Cas was frowning at the television, clearly having no idea what was going on. Dean had found out relatively early in their relationship that Cas didn’t know a thing about sports. Or cars. Or parties. Basically, Castiel was nearly completely clueless about all of the things Dean loved, but for some reason it didn’t matter. Listening to Cas talk about Greek Gods or the history of the Catholic church, something Dean _never_ would have bothered listening to before, was fascinating. Seeing Castiel’s face light up with knowledge and spout of information that Dean never would have known otherwise was wonderful; almost intimidating with how much he knew. But this, Castiel with his eyes narrowed at the TV and his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t decide whether to ask a question or not, this is _adorable_. After about ten minutes both of Dean’s parents bid them goodnight and wandered off to their bedroom, his mother first vowing to wake them up early the next morning to help out with Thanksgiving dinner. Sam took his leave not long after, no doubt to shut himself up in his room and play his nerdy MMORPG games with his equally nerdy internet friends. They were alone in the family room with the television playing in the background, and for some reason the heavy weight of their aloneness was making Dean nervous. Nervous and _horny_. His arm had been slung around Cas’ shoulders for the last half hour, and all of the places that their bodies were touching were suddenly overheating.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh, you can come sleep in my bed with me or if you’re still nervous about being all _together_ in front of my parents, there’s a guest room down here.”

Cas looked up at him and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Which would you prefer, Dean?”

“My bed, of course.”

Cas smiled and nodded. Dean turned off the television and the lamp and they made their way upstairs. They both used the bathroom and dressed in their pajamas before sliding into Dean’s bed. The pajamas Cas had chosen were the same blue plaid pants that Dean had lent him the first time they slept in the same bed, and he was wearing one of Dean’s old Motorhead t-shirts that was just barely too big for him. Dean couldn’t help the possessive swell of pride he felt whenever Cas wore his clothes. He knew that it was irrational to feel so attached to someone so soon, but when he saw Cas wearing his shirt or sleeping on his bed, or even something as simple as Cas leaning against his Impala, he couldn’t help the feral _minemineminemine_ mantra that repeated in his head.

Dean’s bed was a full-size mattress, so not huge, but it was practically a vacation compared to the tiny twin bed they’d grown accustomed to sharing over the past few weeks. They did nothing with the extra room, however, as Dean still wrapped himself around Castiel like an octopus. Cas gave an appreciative hum and intertwined his fingers with Dean’s where the rested on his lower abdomen. He stroked the soft skin under Cas’ navel, chuckling to himself when the muscles beneath the surface jumped and Cas jerked back into Dean from the light, ticklish movement.

“Dean,” he whispered. “You need to stop.”

Dean chuckled and pressed his face closer to the back of Cas’ head, inhaling the fresh, springy scent of his shampoo. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe. I’m not doing anything.”

Cas growled. “You know very well what that spot does to me, Dean. I am not having sex with you when your parents are in the next room.”

Dean’s fingers stopped and untangled from Cas’. He started to move them lower, to the waist of Castiel’s pajama pants. “No one ever said anything about having sex, Cas. Plus, Sammy’s next door. My parents are all the way down the hall.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand before it slid into his pants. “No, Dean.”

Dean ignored him and let his tongue snake out to trace patterns on the back of his boyfriend’s neck, smirking to himself when he felt Cas shiver under the attention and loosen his grip on Dean’s hand. Cas whispered his name again and pressed himself back into Dean, arching his neck to give his tongue more room to roam. Dean took full advantage and flattened his tongue to lip a strip from Cas’ shoulder to his earlobe, where he gently closed his teeth around the tip and tugged. Cas inhaled sharply and his hand flew back to grab at the back of Dean’s head.

“Just gotta be quiet, okay?” he whispered. Cas nodded frantically and let a tiny ‘ _please_ ’ slip out from between his lips. Dean dipped his hand below the waistband of Cas’ pajamas and found that Cas had taken his boxers off before getting ready for bed. He groaned quietly when his fingers came in contact with the hard, heated flesh inside.

“Dirty,” he whispered into Cas’ ear. “Said we couldn’t do this at my parent’s house but you were ready for it, weren’t you?” He gave the smooth cock in his hand a small squeeze for emphasis and felt it throb in his grip.

Cas whimpered and brought his hand back down to Dean’s, wrapping it around the fingers already circling his own cock. He was urging Dean to move, to squeeze, to jerk him off, to do _something,_ but Dean just let his hand stay firmly in place.

“God, Dean, you fucking _tease._ ”

“Tell me,” he responded.

Castiel froze. “W-what?”

Dean gave him another light squeeze and a very slow, languid stroke. “Tell me what you want, Cas.”

“ _Dean._ You know very well what I want.”

Dean let his teeth graze Cas’ earlobe again. “Then just tell me.”

Castiel gave a quiet, irritated huff. “I don’t _care_ , Dean,” he hissed. “Touch me, jerk me off, blow me, throw me down and ride me, I don’t care.   _Just do something please._ ”

Finally, Dean clamped his teeth down and nipped at the side of Castiel’s neck, earning him a quiet, surprised gasp. He grabbed Castiel’s wrist and brought it back up to rest on the back of his own head. “Keep your hands where they are, yeah?”

Cas nodded. He was breathing hard, panting with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. His entire body was shaking, causing his slim hips to wriggle and brush his ass up against Dean’s own neglected erection. Dean brought his hand up to Castiel’s mouth and let it hover in front of his lips.

“Lick,” he instructed.

Castiel didn’t waste a second. He immediately darted his tongue out to liberally coat Dean’s palm with saliva. Once it was plenty slick, Dean expected Cas to stop, but being the sneaky little deviant he was, he captured the tip of Dean’s pointer finger in his mouth and nibbled on the pad of his finger. Dean moaned quietly in Cas’ ear as he let him swirl his tongue around the tip of his finger, then bob his head down a tiny bit further, mimicking all the things Cas liked to do to his cock when he was on his knees. If he didn’t stop this now, he was going to lose it, and dammit, he was in control here. He dragged his finger out of Cas’ mouth, earning a displeased little whine, and brought his newly slickened hand back down to his boyfriend’s exposed cock. There were no teasing strokes this time, no warming up, just zero to sixty in a split second. Dean’s hand gripped Cas’ cock, flying up and down the length of it, slowing down only to swipe his thumb over the tip every now and then, catching the copious amounts of precome leaking from the slit. Cas was mewling, his entire body taut with the strain of keeping as silent as possible. His hips were bucking minutely, trying to fuck himself up into Dean’s fist, while his hand was twisted in Dean’s hair. Dean could tell he was close to coming, so he slowed down, letting his hand roam further down to massage at Cas’ balls, drawn tight up against his body.

“Wanna come, Cas?” he asked.

Cas nodded and whimpered. It was a pathetic, tiny little sound. Dean moved his hand back to Cas’ overheated cock, let his fingers collect the little beads of moisture at the top, and rubbed the wetness in tiny circles over the little bundle of nerves just below the head. Cas was thrusting at his hand, silently begging for friction, so Dean took pity and finally wrapped his hand around Cas’ cock and gave him a few quick tugs. That was all it took and in seconds Castiel was gripping at Dean’s neck, his fingernails digging into his skin, and shooting thick streams of come over Dean’s fingers and sheets. Dean kept stroking slowly until Cas sobbed with oversensitivity. Dean was about to wipe his hand on the bedsheets, but Cas caught his wrist, bringing Dean’s fingers up to his mouth and licking each one of them clean of his own come. Dean stared, his mouth hanging open and his cock throbbing in his pants.

“Cas,” he hissed. Cas let his last finger pop out of his mouth and he turned to look at Dean with wide, innocent eyes. “Cas I need-“

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asked, his voice thick and sated.

Dean’s hands scrabbled at the back of Cas’ pajama pants, pulling them down to reveal his smooth, pale behind. “I-I know I can’t fuck you, Cas, but let me just…let me..”

“Do it,” Cas whispered, understanding what Dean meant. It was a miracle, too, because Dean hardly knew what he meant himself.

He pressed himself up against Cas’ back, his cock compressed between the perfectly round globes of his ass. He let his hand grip at his boyfriend’s hip and Cas gently thrust himself backward, letting Dean’s cock slide up and down between his cheeks. Precome was gathering at the tip of his cock, sticking to the skin at the small of Cas’ back at every upstroke. He was close, embarrassingly so, but Cas continued to urge him on, undulating his hips back into him and tightening the muscles in his backside to squeeze Dean’s cock just that much more. In seconds, Dean was coming, wet and messy between the two of them. He bit lightly onto Castiel’s shoulder to stifle his groan, but in the silence of the room it still sounded out like an alarm. After a few deep lungfuls of air, Dean pressed a kiss to the soft skin behind Cas’ ear and listened to his boyfriend purr deep in the back of his throat. Neither one bothered with cleanup, both too boneless and satisfied to move. Castiel was asleep only moments later, and Dean was right behind him. That was, until his phone quietly beeped from the bedside table. He untangled his arm from Cas’ waist, careful not to wake him, and grabbed his phone.

**[Sam: YOU ARE SUCH A GROSS JERK.]**

Dean snorted quietly and tossed his phone back onto the nightstand. He curled himself back around his boyfriend and fell asleep grinning.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My John/Mary feels were a little out of control this week, because I started rewatching Supernatural from the beginning. Please excuse this chapter. And it's Sam's POV instead of Dean or Cas like it has been. Just trying a little new perspective. 
> 
> :3

Sam Winchester woke up in an absolutely foul mood. He shouldn’t have, as it was Thanksgiving day. Thanksgiving day at the Winchester household was supposed to be full of food and television and merriment, but no, the only thing Sam could focus on was the fact that the previous night he’d heard his older brother and his boyfriend _screwing_ through the paper thin walls. _Augh._

After getting up, Sam made his way to the bathroom and then finally downstairs where he could hear his mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. When he rounded the corner, he saw Dean sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes, and Castiel chopping up carrots. When Mama Winchester says that everyone helps out on Thanksgiving dinner, she means it. When he walked into the kitchen, Dean immediately caught his eye and gave him a stern look that said ‘ _no tattling about last night or I swear to God I will put my foot up your ass.’_ Castiel seemed perfectly at ease save from his ever-timid blush, so Sam assumed that Dean never told him that they were heard the night before.

“What can I do, Mom?” Sam asked, walking up to Mary.

Mary turned away from the counter, where she was shoving tokens of seasoned butter beneath the skin of the turkey. “Nothing else needs to be started for a few hours, sweetheart. Maybe you could tidy up the family room and the dining room for me?”

Sam nodded and made his way to the other room. He spent the next two hours or so fluffing pillows, dusting, and vacuuming the already immaculate carpet in both rooms. His mother kept a very neat house. Once he was finished cleaning, his mother rounded him back up for kitchen duty. The three boys peeled, shelled, and sliced vegetables and fruit until their fingers were stained with strawberry juice or reeked like starchy potatoes. Around one in the afternoon, Mary shooed them all out of her kitchen. The only food she had left to make were the pies, and she knew better than to trust three young men in the kitchen with pie. Especially Dean.

“Dibs on first shower!” Sam called.

“No way,” Dean replied. “I’m older, I should get to shower first.”

The brothers stared at one another for a few moments before bolting to their rooms to grab their shower toiletries. Dean had only gotten to the hallway mere seconds before Sam, and he slid into the bathroom with Cas in tow. Sam grimaced. There was no way he was going to use that shower after they were in it _together_. Sam loved his brother. Sam liked Castiel. If they wanted to make goo-goo eyes and paw at each other nonstop, that’s great, but not in the sacred place of hygiene.

“Mom!” Sam shouted. “Dean went into the bathroom with-“

Before he could finish, the door swung open and Castiel had unceremoniously shoved Dean into the hallway before shutting it once again. Dean looked at the bathroom door, stunned, and Sam had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Cas, you sneaky son of a bitch!” Dean yelled as he kicked at the door.

“Language!” Mary called from downstairs.

Sam smirked at his brother. “I guess neither of us gets first shower.”

Dean rolled his eyes and mussed up Sam’s hair. “Yeah, well, I still get second.”

Dean did end up getting second shower, but only because he is a big dumb brute and he attacked Sam right outside of his door when he opened it to make his way to the bathroom. He tackled Sam to the ground, gave him a merciless noogie, and then bolted into the bathroom. The jerk.

When Sam was finally showered, he made his way back across the hall to his bedroom only to be frozen in place by the sound of deep, rapid breaths in Dean’s room. He grimaced and kicked at the door, causing all noises from inside to stop aside from Dean’s one small snort of laughter and a panicked yip from Castiel. When Sam got back into his bedroom he immediately checked his phone, out of habit, and smiled when he noticed a new message from _her_.

**[Jess: Happy Thanksgiving handsome :) ]**

Sam grinned to himself and responded with a simple ‘ _You too beautiful!’_ and a smiley face. Jessica Moore. The girl was perfect. She was a year older than Sam, due to his skipping a grade, but you definitely couldn’t tell. Sam was a good foot taller than she was, which meant when she hugged him she had to stand on her tip toes and when he hugged her back around her waist, she’d lift up a few inches off the ground. Jess is this tiny little thing, with beautiful grey-blue eyes and wild curly blonde hair, and Sam is surprised that he’s managed to keep up his grades when it feels like he spends his entire day at school staring at her. They exchanged numbers almost immediately after meeting in junior year and they spent nearly a year and a half dancing around one another. It’s not that Sam was afraid to ask her, because Jess was a sweet girl and he was positive she was crushing on him just as badly as he was crushing on her. Sam’s only issue was that their relationship would have a time limit. Jess was leaving Kansas after senior year to attend San Jose State University in California and study Early Childhood Education. She had an aunt in the area who was going to let her live there for free while she went to college. She had everything all planned out for herself. Now, in Sam’s perfect world, he’d be lucky enough to get into a great college like Stanford. He’d had dreams about going to law school in California ever since the first college sponsor came to talk to his class in the seventh grade. He’d talked to his family so excitedly about the possibilities that would be open to him if he went to a university like Stanford for the next month. Dean even told him when Sam had just started high school that if Sam ever made it to Stanford, they could move there together and give California a little Winchester charm. Stanford didn’t just look for good grades though, places like that wanted kids that were versatile and had a lot of extracurricular activities and sports under their belt. Sam was never into playing sports and the only extracurricular he was interested in was Class President and he was outvoted by three votes when school elections came along. He applied for Kansas University at the beginning of the school year and was granted admission into their law program, under the stipulation that his grade point average remained above a 3.0 for the remainder of his senior year.

He and Jess were going to be separated at the end of the summer after graduation, so he tried to keep her as a close friend, but that all changed during the school’s first pep rally that year. Classes emptied into the hallways and all of the students made their way to the gym. One girl, Sarah, had stopped Sam in the hall on the way to the gym and asked him if he’d like to sit next to her at the pep rally. Sarah was a nice girl and they shared a table in his biology class, so he agreed and made his way to the top of the bleachers with her to sit. The first few minutes of their principal’s speech was the same as it was every year, but after about fifteen minutes Sam felt Sarah scoot in a tad closer to him. A few rows beneath them, Sam spotted Jess and her friend Ashley. As if on cue, Jess turned slightly and caught his eye. She immediately smiled and gave him a tiny wave. Sam smiled and went to wave back, but just as he was raising his hand, Sarah turned to him and rested a hand on his arm. He looked down immediately at the touch and he noticed that Sarah was beaming at him from the side. Oh. _Oh._ When he looked back up at Jess, she was frowning with her eyes focused on Sarah’s hand. She turned back to her friend and whispered something in her ear before standing up and making her way off the bleachers and out the door of the gymnasium. Sam immediately stood up, apologized to Sarah, and followed Jess’ route out the door. He couldn’t see her just outside the door so he rounded the nearest corner and found her sitting on a bench by the band room, her knees pulled up to her chest and an angry pout on her beautiful face.

“Jess, what’s wr--“

“You!” She interrupted. “You are what’s wrong, Sam. I’m sure that girl is great and everything but why not me?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “W-what?”

Jess dropped her feet back to the ground. “I _like you_ Sam. I like you a lot and I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of ways to get you to look at me that way, but then out of nowhere you’re suddenly a _thing_ with some girl? What am I doing wrong, Sam?”

Sam slumped down in the seat beside her. “Jess, I—There’s nothing wrong with you, Jessica. I like you too. I really, really do. It’s just, you know, you’re leaving next year. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you but when you told me you were moving to California, I just had to back off.”

Jess’ face softened and she smiled. “That’s all? Sam, that’s what long distance relationships are for. And skype, and the telephone. Plus, my parents and my sisters live here in Kansas, do you really think that I’d stay in California forever and not even visit? My parents are going to have me home for every major holiday and I’ll come back to visit between semesters too. Who knows, maybe you can come see me in California.”

“You…you want that with me?” Sam asked, incredulous. “Jess…”

Jessica nodded at him. “Now, if you don’t kiss me this instant, I’ll have no choice but to go all Hulk on you.”

Sam laughed and then finally, _finally_ , cupped her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly. She placed her small hands against his chest and gripped his t-shirt in her fingers, trying to tug him even closer to her. It was a wonderful first kiss, despite the fact that only a few seconds later Sam’s Calculus teacher rounded the corner and threatened them both with detention if they didn’t scoot back to the gymnasium.

They’d only been together for a few months, but Sam already knew she was the one. Of course, he hadn’t told his parents or his brother that yet, out of fear that Dean would tease him mercilessly and his mother would do everything in her power to get Jess over to their house so she could embarrass him in front of her; much like she was trying to do to Dean while Castiel was at their house. Jess was the only girl in the world that he could imagine a technology-based relationship with while they lived halfway across the country from one another. But Jess was also the reason that, even though he knew it was an empty attempt, Sam sent out an application to Stanford. He didn’t hear anything back for weeks after applying, but the feeling of rejection that he was expecting never came. He was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Until, of course, the groans in Dean’s bedroom started again. That surely brought him back to the present.

This time, Sam skipped the process of kicking at the wall, and instead finished dressing himself and barged into Dean’s room. He’d hoped that barging in would make them stop what they were doing and scare them so bad that their boners would wilt for the remainder of their stay in his house, but when the door flew open, he was met by a very ridiculous sight. Dean and Cas were not having sex, _thank God_ , but they were wrapped around one another on the floor, with Dean’s legs around Cas’ waist and a hand pushing his face away, and Cas’ forearm holding Dean to the ground with his other hand waving a shirt just out of Dean’s reach.

“What the hell are you weirdos doing?” Sam asked.

Dean snarled. “Cas won’t give me my damn shirt.”

“Dean, you do not wear ACDC shirts on Thanksgiving.”

“Says you!”

Cas sighed and tried to move his head away from Dean’s grabby hand. “Yes, says me. Will it kill you to wear a button-up shirt?”

“YES.”

Sam chuckled and grabbed the shirt from Castiel’s grip. Cas grinned at him and eased his arm off of Dean’s bare chest. When Dean looked at Sam, Sam’s eyes widened and he booked out of the room and down the stairs with Dean’s shirt, nearly running into his father in the family room. Their Uncle Bobby was already there, watching the Thanksgiving parade on television and nursing a beer. Dean had barreled down the stairs after him and just as he was locking his hands around Sam’s arm to give him the worst Indian Burn of his life, he was flicked in the ear by his father.

“Ack!” Dean yelped and held his ear.

John smirked at the pair of them. “Put a shirt on, Dean, your mom got a call from the Harvelle’s. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

Dean pointed to Sam. “He has my shirt.”

John peered at Sam and looked at the rumpled shirt in his grip. “Nah, put on something nicer. You’ve got plenty of button-ups you left in your closet.”

Dean glared at Sam and ripped the shirt from his grip before heading back upstairs. When he emerged from his bedroom moments later, he was followed by a very smug looking Castiel who was smoothing out the back of Dean’s collar. Dean introduced Castiel to Bobby and then to Jo’s mother Ellen when the two of them arrived. Castiel was very quiet, as always, and Dean never left his side. For all that Dean teased Sam about being sensitive, he was actually kind of a chick-flick boyfriend himself. He stared at Cas, even when the other boy wasn’t paying attention. He smiled at Cas’ every move, grinning when he would lay his head on Dean’s shoulder and smiling shyly when he would lock eyes with him. Dean was a lovesick puppy, but Sam couldn’t find it in him to make fun of his brother. He looked too happy.

Dinner was an ordeal, as it always was at the Winchester table, but this year was ridiculous. The extra people made the room pleasantly crowded and anything but silent. His mother’s food was magical, as always, and Ellen brought with her some homemade pistachio pudding that made Sam’s mouth water just looking at it. About ten minutes into the meal, Mary grabbed a bottle of wine to serve to all of the adults. When she came to Castiel and Dean, she asked Castiel if he was twenty-one yet and if he’d like some wine. Castiel shook his head and explained to her that he would be turning twenty the next day so he would just take a glass of water. Sam’s mother immediately whacked Dean lightly on the back of the head and chastised him for not telling her that it was Castiel’s birthday the next day. Sam and Jo were laughing loudly at the stunned look on Dean’s face when he had to admit that he didn’t even know. He gave Castiel a guilty, remorseful look and apologized for not knowing, but Castiel wasn’t upset. He just settled his hand on Dean’s cheek and rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, reassuring him that it was fine, until he noticed that everyone at the table was silently watching the exchange. Castiel immediately blushed deeply and turned away from Dean, who was still looking at Castiel with a dopey half-smile. By the end of the meal, Dean had eaten half of the apple pie all by himself (and that’s why their mother makes two), Jo had tried to instigate a food fight with Dean, Castiel was interrogated by Mary about his favorite types of cake and ice cream and had to ward off her attempts to throw him a birthday party. Dean made sure that he was skimming Castiel’s hand with his own to keep him calm all through dinner, and though he wore a constant blush, Castiel did eventually warm up and allow his nerves to settle. Throughout most of the meal, John kept quiet, contributing very little to conversation and speaking mostly to Uncle Bobby. Sam noticed him often staring at Dean and Castiel, his eyes flicking down to where Dean would reassuringly squeeze Cas’ fingers. Their father wasn’t homophobic, and he didn’t hate Dean for his sexual preference, but ever since Dean came out to them their father has been uncomfortable about seeing Dean with other men. There was never any awkwardness when Dean came home to visit from college because it was just him, but when he was in high school and he’d bring boys home to study or go out on dates, John would always look at him warily and become oddly quiet. No one but Sam seemed to notice the change in their father, luckily, and after everyone finished eating they all moved to the family room to watch Christmas movies together at Mary’s insistence. Just like every year, Dean complained that Christmas was still a month away and Mary threw a pillow at him and told him to hush because ‘ _tradition is tradition_.”

Around eleven in the evening, the Harvelle’s headed home with plenty of leftovers in tow and Mary set all three boys to helping with dishes and making room in the fridge for all of the extra food. Dean inhaled two more pieces of pie before the night was over and around midnight, he and Castiel went up to his room and collapsed into what had to be a very pleasant food coma. Sam followed not long after, and he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He woke up early the next morning to the smell of bacon permeating the air. He followed the smell out his bedroom door and down the stairs, but he stopped before hitting the floor when he heard his parent’s voices floating in from the kitchen.

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t notice, John.” His mother said.

John sighed. “I just don’t know about him.”

“Castiel is a perfectly sweet boy. If you keep clamming up every single time you see the two of them together Dean is going to notice. The only reason he hasn’t already is because his eyes haven’t left Castiel long enough to see the other people around him.”

A chair squeaked like someone had just flopped down into it.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” John responded. “Dean looks at this kid like he’s got all the answers to the universe. The constant doe eyes are starting to worry me. Our boy went on plenty of dates in high school, but this is the first time he’s ever brought someone home to meet us.”

“I fail to see your point, honey.”

John sighed again. “He’s just so young, Mary. I know I get a little weird when I see him with guys, but you know I love him and I accept him whatever way he is. It’s just that they seem to be moving so fast. They’re like two shakes away from hightailing to Canada to get married and adopt a baby.”

“I understand that, but look at us. We met when we were only seventeen, John.”

“Yeah, and look where that got you. You’re stuck with me now.” He joked.

A noise that sounded very much like a wooden spoon hitting the back of someone’s skull sounded out and John yelped and then chuckled. Sam winced in sympathy because he knew firsthand what it was like to get whacked with the wooden spoon, thanks to Dean. It happened every time Dean convinced him it was a good idea for the two of them to try and sneak away with some of their mother’s pie filling when she wasn’t looking.

“You listen to me, John Winchester,” his mother started. “I love you. I have loved you since before I even really knew what that meant, and you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You gave me safety, happiness, a home, and two beautiful boys. Being a wife and mother is the greatest thing I’ve ever done with my life, and I knew from the moment I met you that this was what I wanted. Maybe that’s how things will end up with Dean and Castiel, and maybe it’s not, but we need to just let it happen. Castiel is smart and he’s polite and he’s very cute, would it be so bad if he was the one for Dean?”

“No, I uh, I guess not.” John responded quietly. “I love you too, Mary. I do.”

“I know,” his mother replied. The sound of lips smacking together followed and Sam grimaced because _ew parents making out in the kitchen_. He climbed the stairs quietly and then descended again, this time making sure to make a lot of noise on his way down.

“Whatcha makin, mom?” he asked as he turned the corner.

“Everything breakfast-y that we had in the fridge. I didn’t think to ask what Castiel likes for breakfast, but I figured I’d hit the nail on the head with something if I made it all. You can help me make his birthday cake later if you want to, Sammy.”

He glared halfheartedly at his mother. “It’s Sam,” he corrected.

She just smiled and reached up to ruffle his hair. “I don’t care if you grow to be twice my size, honey, you’ll always be my little Sammy.”

Sam just smiled and rolled his eyes. Minutes later, the smell of breakfast had finally ripped Dean from his slumber and he moseyed into the kitchen with Castiel’s hand attached to his, both of them still dressed in their pajamas. Their mother immediately hugged a very flustered Castiel and wished him a happy birthday, followed by John who repeated the sentiment with a friendly clap on the shoulder instead of a hug. Dean was shocked by his father’s newfound friendliness at first, but ultimately grinned up at him and John gave him small nod back.

Sam couldn’t help but smile. It was turning out to be a very good break.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean knew that Cas felt awkward all through breakfast with his mother’s constant fawning. She made sure to keep Cas’ coffee cup full and to stuff him full of all the wonderful food she made. In celebration of his birthday, his mother made the type of breakfasts that she made during Christmas when her parents and all the cousins came to visit. The table was stocked with fluffy scrambled eggs with cheese, a plate piled high with bacon and sausage, and homemade apple and blueberry turnovers. Mary Winchester was a culinary genius. There was light conversation all throughout the meal, with Castiel profusely thanking Mary for going through so much trouble, and his mother trying her damnedest to tell every humiliating story about Dean’s childhood that she could remember; including the one where Dean used to run around the house with a cardboard box strapped to his back that was attached to a plastic tube, screaming the Ghostbuster’s theme song and replacing the word ‘Ghostbusters’ with ‘Winchesters’. Castiel laughed particularly hard at that one.

After eating, both of Dean’s parents informed them that they’d be gone for most of the day. Black Friday was either the best or worst shopping day of the year, depending on how you look at it. His parents used to take advantage of the holiday deals for Christmas presents when he and Sam were much younger, but since Dean turned fourteen his parents turned Black Friday into a personal parent’s day. Since most people were out shopping and braving the stampedes at the mall, his parents used that opportunity to see movies together at the near-empty theater in town and then have a nice, long lunch date in a similarly empty restaurant. They would always end their day at The Roadhouse with Jo’s mother, Ellen, and their father’s best friend, who the boys had always referred to as Uncle Bobby. Since Bobby and Ellen also didn’t participate in Black Friday shopping, they made it a tradition to have a few beers and play a couple of rounds of cards together, making a whole night out of it.

Before they left, John pulled Dean aside. “What are you boys planning to do today?” He asked.

“We’re going to movie night at Ash’s tonight like always probably,” he lied with a nonchalant shrug. Ash’s “Friday movie night” was the made-up story Dean had been feeding to his parents for years as a cover for the races.

“You aren’t going to do anything for Cas’ birthday?”

“He said he doesn’t want a party or anything,” Dean replied. “You saw him last night, Dad. Mom had to pester him for like two hours just to find out what kind of cake to make him for tonight.”

His father pursed his lips for a moment before digging into his coat pocket. He pulled out his wallet and counted out a handful of bills before shoving them into Dean’s palm. “Just take him out and make sure he has a good time. He’s too shy to ask for a proper birthday date, but you should give him one. I don’t imagine you two have a lot of time to spend together outside of school so…”

His father’s sentence trailed off and he ran a hand over the back of his neck. Dean’s reluctance to delve too deeply into his feelings had most certainly come from John, whereas Sam’s ultra-sensitivity came from his mother. Dean stared at the wad of money in his hand, completely baffled. Just last night his father could hardly use the word ‘boyfriend’ without getting uncomfortable, and now he was shoving what had to be at _least_ two hundred dollars into Dean’s hand and telling him to take Cas out on a date? While never cruel or homophobic, his father had never seemed to be accepting of his sexuality. Instead, he often pretended like Dean’s preference for other men didn’t exist. But this, this was a blatant gesture of acceptance. He didn’t know what had gotten into his father, but he liked it and he wasn’t about to complain.

He pocketed the money and looked up at his father. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Yep,” John responded simply, with a nod of his head.

His father started to turn, heading toward the front door to join Mary where she waited in the car, but Dean caught his arm. John looked back at Dean again, who was wearing a serious, but grateful expression. “I’m serious, Dad. Thank you.”

John seemed to know that the ‘thank you’ went deeper than just gratefulness for cash, but that Dean was putting a lot of unsaid importance into his father’s acceptance. He smiled at his son and pulled him into a one-armed hug before whispering a quick ‘ _love you, boy_ ’ and disappearing out the door.

At first Dean was worried that nothing in Topeka would be interesting or special enough for Cas’ birthday, but almost immediately an idea planted itself in his brain. He bounded up the stairs to his bedroom and shooed Cas away. His boyfriend was extremely confused, but complied when Dean told him he needed to look something up alone and suggested he go bother Sam for a moment. Cas had still never allowed Dean to see his sketchbook, and while he was viciously curious to see the contents, he’d always respected Cas’ choice not to show him. Dean booted up his laptop and opened Google, immediately queuing up a search for art museums in the area. There were several small museums close by, but one museum in particular caught Dean’s eye. The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art was in Kansas City, Missouri, a little over and hour’s drive away, and it was currently hosting an exhibition focused on Greek and Roman mythology. He checked the website for ticket prices and directions, then counted out the wad of money his father handed him just to make sure he had enough. As luck would have it, John had actually given Dean three hundred dollars, and tickets were actually pretty cheap. Not only was Dean going to have enough money to take Cas to the exhibit, but he was certain there would be enough to take him out for a nice dinner _and_ buy him an awesome birthday present. It was only ten in the morning, but Dean wanted to get ready and go to the museum before noon so they had plenty of time to wander around the exhibit before going to dinner. He did a quick search for date-worthy restaurants in the same area as the museum, and he found a Brazilian steakhouse called Fogo De Chao that was less than a mile away. He quickly, and quietly as possible, dialed the number of the restaurant and made a reservation for four o’clock. Right after he pressed the end button on the call, a tentative knock sounded at his door.

“Come in,” he called, closing his laptop.

The door opened to reveal a very confused looking Castiel. Dean grinned at him and stood, motioning Cas over with his finger. Castiel walked over to him and leaned up to give him a small kiss.

“Are you going to tell me why you kicked me out of your bedroom now?” He asked.

Dean shook his head with a grin. “No way. We are, however, going to go take a shower now. We’re going to have a day out for your birthday.”

Castiel started to shake his head. “Dean, I don’t need a big birthday thing, I just—”

“No,” Dean interrupted. “We’re not doing a ‘big birthday thing’, Cas. It’s just going to be me and you. Don’t make me beg, Cas, cause I will and I won’t play fair.” He accentuated that statement by pulling Castiel toward him by the hips and skimming his nose lightly up the side of his boyfriend’s neck, stopping at his ear to nip and tug at the lobe.

Castiel gave a light sigh and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders. “Fine,” he conceded. “But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

Dean laughed and separated himself from Cas, tugging him out toward the bathroom by his wrist. Sam was already shut up in his bedroom and his parents were gone, so Dean had no qualms about pulling Castiel into the bathroom with him this time. Although they’d had sex plenty of times over the last two weeks, Castiel was still shy as ever each time Dean got around to undressing him. A pink flush would spread from his cheeks down to his chest and he’d turn away, timidly trying to hide how overwhelmed with sensation he would become. Things were no different there in the Winchester bathroom. Dean divested himself of his t-shirt and then immediately brought his hands to the bottom of Castiel’s shirt. He pushed the garment up, and Castiel raised his arms so Dean could pull it off completely. Before he touched him again, Dean pulled away to start the shower in hopes that it would cover enough of Castiel’s delicious little sounds so Sam wouldn’t hear.

When he turned back, Castiel’s trademark blush was starting to creep into his cheeks so Dean took the opportunity to cup his boyfriend’s face in his hands and kiss him. Their lips melded together, sweet and unhurried, and Dean trailed his hands slowly from where they rested on Castiel’s cheeks down his neck and chest, stopping at his stomach to let his fingers tease at all the sensitive spots. Goosebumps rose on Cas’ skin and he pulled slightly away from Dean to rest their foreheads together and look down at where Dean’s fingers had then moved to the waistband of his pajamas. Dean slid the pants and Cas’ boxers down his legs slowly, sinking to his knees on the tile floor while he pulled each leg from the garments and then tossed them aside. He didn’t stand up immediately after, instead staying on his knees and trailing his hands back up Castiel’s legs, the soft hair dusting his skin tickling Dean’s palms on the way. He rested his hands on Cas’ hips, his thumbs sitting on the dip of his hip bones, and he leaned in to press kisses all across the skin around his navel. Dean grinned at the fast, harsh pace of Cas’ breath, and finally decided to give in and touch him where he wanted to be touched. He moved his right hand from Cas’ hipbone to grip at the base of his cock and lowered his lips to mouth over the crown. Cas keened and leaned back to brace himself against the sink. Dean mouthed his way down the length of Cas’ cock and back up before closing his lips around the head and suckling lightly. He let his tongue draw tiny patterns around the sensitive spot beneath the head while his hand was stroking its way up and down the shaft. Cas was wound up tight already, having been a complete ball of nerves the entire trip, so he was shaking with the force of trying to hold back his orgasm within minutes.

Dean slid his mouth off the heated flesh and looked up at his boyfriend. “Quit holding back, baby. Look at me.”

Cas’ eyes immediately snapped down to Dean’s and as soon as he was watching, Dean let his lips close around his cock again. Castiel’s hips moved minutely, thrusting himself centimeter by centimeter into Dean’s mouth. Dean grinned around his mouthful and worked his tongue around the head while his hand continued to fly over the length of his cock that wasn’t encased between his lips. He felt Cas’ legs begin to quiver and his abdominal muscles were tightening, so he pulled off. This caused Castiel to throw his head back and let out a high pitched whine of contempt.

Dean slowed the movement of his hand and looked up at Cas once more. “Look at me, Cas, c’mon.”

Cas tipped his head downward again and stared at Dean, eyes wide and mouth slack. “Dean,” he whispered. “Come on, Dean, don’t tease. So close.”

Dean smirked up at him and let the tip of his tongue snake out from between his lips. He gave a few tiny kitten licks to the bundle of nerves beneath the head, then gave the same treatment to the slit, watching Cas pant above him. He slipped his tongue back into his mouth long enough to whisper ‘ _Watch, baby’_ and then quickened the pace of his hand. Castiel’s eyes widened but did not move from the motion of Dean’s mouth and hand. Cas’ cock was slick with spit, easing the way while Dean tugged at his cock with long, languid strokes. He stuck his tongue out once more, lapping at the head and tasting the copious drops of precome that were dripping from Cas.

“Dean,” Cas growled. “Dean, fuck, g-gonna-”

 Dean felt Cas’ cock throb in his palm as he came, thick streams of fluid coating Dean’s tongue, lips, and fingers. Cas mewled his way through the orgasm, grabbing and tugging at Dean’s short hair when his cock was too sensitive to continue. When Dean pulled his hand away from Cas’ cock, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking clean all traces of come and running his tongue around his lips to savor the taste. Cas watched each movement with his hand still twined in Dean’s hair. As soon as the last drop was taken by Dean’s tongue, Cas hauled him up off the floor and crushed their lips together, thrusting his tongue in Dean’s mouth to share the taste. With what little time they had left, Dean didn’t expect reciprocation so he removed his pants and tugged Cas toward the shower; and Cas, being sated and compliant, went willingly. They washed their own hair, taking turns under the spray of water, but when it came to their bodies it turned into exploration with soapy fingers and sloppy kisses.

When it was Cas’ turn to wash Dean, he had lathered up his hands and began rubbing circles into Dean’s skin. When his arms, back, and torso had been thoroughly fondled, Cas squirted more body wash into his hands and began rubbing it into Dean’s hips. He then moved his hands slowly back and around until he was gripping Dean’s ass. Castiel loved making grabby hands at him and slapping his ass and when he turned possessive, grabbing handfuls of him, it made Dean chuckle. But the small laugh turned into a choked off moan when one of Cas’ lathered up fingers ghosted over his entrance, setting all his nerves on fire. Dean had been hard from lack of attention for the duration of the shower, but it was easy to ignore until then. Cas was nibbling at his neck and rubbing his fingertip firmly between Dean’s cheeks, but making no move to penetrate. After only a few seconds, Cas separated himself from Dean, encouraging him to move beneath the spray of water and rinse himself off. With a sigh and a quietly muttered ‘ _freakin tease_ ’, Dean stepped under the water, washing all away all traces of soap. He was about to shut off the water, but Cas grabbed his wrist and spun them around so their places were switched. Cas was standing with his back facing the water and he leaned up to kiss Dean once more before putting his hands on his hips to turn him around. Without a word, Cas slid a hand up to the back of Dean’s neck and urged him to bend slightly and brace himself on the wall. A jolt of electricity shot through Dean’s body when he realized he was probably about to get fucked in the shower. He leaned further, presenting himself more openly for Cas’ fingers to stretch him, but no soft touch of fingertips ever came. Cas just bent himself over Dean and kissed the knobs of his spine. He continued a path down Dean’s backbone with his lips, stopping now and then to lightly graze his fingertips over the skin at Dean’s shoulder blades.  

It wasn’t until Dean heard Cas’ knees hit the floor of the tub that Cas’ intentions finally registered. This was something they’d never experimented with in their short few weeks of sexual encounters. It was something they hadn’t even _talked_ about, but here, after Cas had teased him with kisses and fingertips, Dean needed this. He could feel Cas’ breath landing between the globes of his ass, and he drew in a sharp breath when Cas leaned in and nuzzled at the firm flesh of his right cheek. Cas chuckled against his skin and then kneaded roughly at Dean’s backside before nipping at him, causing Dean to jerk forward with a yelp.

“Fucking hell, Cas,” he moaned. “Just god damn do it if you’re gonna do it.”

Cas laughed softly and slid his face along Dean’s backside again, the soft scrape of stubble sending shivers up Dean’s spine. Just as he was about to complain again, Cas parted his cheeks and gave one long, firm lick across his hole. Dean groaned loudly at the new sensation and unabashedly shoved himself further back in search of more. Cas complied immediately, attacking the tight pucker with ferocious determination. He alternated between drawing circles around the whorl of flesh with his tongue, giving sloppy, sucking, open mouthed kisses, and long, slow strokes of the tongue that left Dean’s legs shaking beneath him. Dean could hear himself moaning like a whore while Cas’ face was buried in his ass; not even the beating spray of water could drown him out. He was going to catch hell with Sam for this later, but he didn’t care. Not with these burning shots of white-hot pleasure sparking throughout his body. He braced himself against the wall with one hand, bringing the other behind him to grasp at Cas’ hair and press him closer. Cas moaned in appreciation and the vibration around his hole nearly had him painting the shower wall in come. He pushed himself back, unashamed and unapologetic, essentially riding Cas’ face. His boyfriend didn’t seem to mind, just gripping at Dean’s hips tightly, groaning, and licking more insistently at Dean’s rim. It was the combination of those things that tipped Dean over the edge. He felt himself beginning to come and he released his grip on Castiel’s hair, instead wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking out the last few spurts while he felt his hole clenching hungrily around Castiel’s tongue.

His body was still shuddering long after his orgasm was over with, and regardless of where his mouth had just been, Dean opened up immediately when Cas turned him around and pressed their mouths together. He let his hand slip down Cas’ body again, thinking that he’d had more than enough time to get hard again for another go, but he wasn’t. Dean looked down, disappointed, until he saw traces of come spattered against Cas’ thigh and realized that Cas had come again with his tongue in Dean’s ass. He looked back up at Cas who wore a sheepish smile and shrugged, a new blush beginning to stain his cheeks.

Dean just gave him a lopsided grin. “You sure it’s not _my_ birthday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry about the huge delay between chapters this time. So much junk has been happening to me over this past week, but I hope the porn in this chapter helps you to forgive me :3


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel tried and tried on the duration of the drive to get Dean to reveal their destination, but each time Dean would just shake his head and grin at him. Castiel had even tried boldly stroking Dean through his slacks in a bribe, but Dean just gripped the steering wheel and smirked, occasionally letting out tiny moans but never cracking. Castiel gave up soon after that and Dean whined about him not finishing what he started but still refused to tell him where they were going; so Cas continued to pout and Dean chuckled at him and adjusted himself with one hand before turning back to the road ahead. After their shower, Dean had instructed Castiel to dress in the nicest clothes he had available but he refused to tell him why. They’d been driving for about an hour when they passed a sign informing drivers that they were leaving Kansas and heading into Missouri.

Castiel frowned in confusion and looked at his boyfriend. “Are you taking me across state lines to kill me?”

Dean didn’t even hesitate before responding with a light ‘ _mmhmm_ ’

“I’m serious, Dean. Why are we leaving the state?”

Dean sighed, but a small smile still graced his lips. “You know, a birthday surprise is pretty pointless if you keep trying to get me to tell you what the surprise is.”

Cas pouted again and slumped into his seat. Dean just laughed and threaded their fingers together. “We’re almost there, don’t worry.”

Castiel gave a resigned sigh and squeezed Dean’s fingers lightly, earning a tiny squeeze back in return. They passed through the edges of Missouri and into Kansas City, and Castiel took in the view of all the tall buildings and bustling business around them. They drove on for a few more minutes before Dean finally pulled the car into an enormous parking garage off of Oak Street that was on the West side of an enormous stone building with columns out front that reminded Castiel of the Parthenon. Dean drove through the dark garage, paying the attendant in the booth for parking and winding around to find a spot.

When they exited the car, Castiel immediately plastered himself to Dean’s side and threaded their fingers together. “Dean, where are we?”

Dean grinned at him and pulled him toward a door that was labeled _Lobby Entrance_ , where a family of four was also entering. When they crossed through the door, Castiel’s throat closed up. The lobby of the building was enormous, all stone walls and marble floors. Small crowds of people were scattered across the floor, dressed nicely much like Dean and Castiel were. When he looked up, he saw an enormous banner hanging above a circular information desk, advertising the name of the building and allowing Castiel to finally find out where they were.

“Nelson-Atkins Museum?” He squeaked, looking at Dean with wide eyes. “You…you brought me to an art museum?”

Dean gave him a lopsided grin and nodded. “Do, uh, do you like it? I mean, I know you like to draw and stuff even though you won’t let me see your stuff. They have a Mythology in Art exhibition going on today and you’re taking that Greek Mythology course at school so I thought that maybe it was something you’d like. We can, like, we can leave if you don’t like it or—“

Castiel surged forward and cut Dean off by crashing their mouths together, his hands fisting in the lapels of Dean’s blazer. Dean brought him to an art museum because he knew that Castiel loved art, even when he tried to hide it. And Dean wore a blazer for him. They’d had to fight to get Dean to wear a shirt with buttons for his family’s Thanksgiving dinner, but Dean had willingly dressed in the fanciest clothing he owned today so he could take Castiel to an art museum for his birthday. Dean sighed happily against his lips, and kissed him back. They pulled apart after only a few seconds, feeling the eyes of other patrons on them, but Castiel grinned so widely up at his boyfriend that his cheeks hurt.

“So, I did good?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. “I love it, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean linked their fingers again and led Castiel through the lobby, past the museum store, and down a long hallway that branched off into several rooms. They joined the small throng of people entering a showroom that held that day’s exhibition. Castiel had never been to an art museum before and he was practically vibrating with excitement. His parents didn’t support his love of the arts, always having expected him to follow in his father and grandfather’s footsteps. Religion and history were fascinating, and teaching was an honorable career, but they weren’t things that Castiel was particularly passionate about. Not like the swipe of a charcoal pencil or stroke of a paintbrush. History and religion could tell you stories about war, faith, and the downfall of man, but art was so much more than that. An artist tells you a story that comes straight from their minds and hands. It can be about anything, anything at all, and you get to experience it for yourself without having to read about it from some crummy textbook in a crowded classroom full of people who don’t want to be there. People made these pieces, the paintings and sculptures, they told these stories with their bare hands and now he was going to witness the results firsthand.

“The world is but a canvas for our imagination,” Castiel whispered, more to himself than anything. Dean looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and he blushed. “I-it’s a Henry David Thoreau quote. My drawing professor says it to the class all the time. I just…Dean, I’m so happy to be here. I mean it, thank you.”

Dean put a gentle finger beneath Cas’ chin and tipped his face up just enough to capture his lips in a short, sweet kiss before leading him the rest of the way into the showroom. The exhibit was breathtaking, and thanks to both Castiel’s Drawing course and his Greek Mythology course, he recognized a lot of the art and the lore behind it. He and Dean spent over an hour weaving through the people and listening to the curator describe certain pieces. There were pieces from all cultures; African, Egyptian, Greek. Castiel loved them all, but he had a special love for Greek mythology. He halted in front of a section of paintings, a series showcasing multiple dimensions of Medusa, and stared unabashedly at the incredible amount of detail. They were full of earthy tones and hellish scenery, each brushstroke seemingly more complicated than the last. Right to the side of those paintings was another series, this time featuring lighter and brighter colors, the whitewashed glow of a Pegasus’ wings. Castiel was in awe.

Dean sidled up beside him and looked at the painting. “Horse with wings. That’s pretty badass.”

Castiel smiled. “This is a Pegasus, Dean. Medusa is my favorite creature in Greek mythology, but Pegasus is a close second. It’s the wings, I think. And the two are related in a way, so I suppose it makes sense.”

“Was the Pegasus that snake witch’s mode of transportation then?” Dean asked.

Castiel shakes his head. “Medusa wasn’t a witch, Dean. She was one of the Gorgon sisters, and she was extremely beautiful once. She accused the Goddess Athena of being jealous of her beauty and Athena was so angry that she struck Medusa with a curse that turned her hair to serpents and her face so incredibly ugly that anyone who looked into her eyes would turn to stone. Some lore says that when Perseus defeated Medusa by cutting off her head, the Pegasus was born from the earth and fed on her blood. Eventually Pegasus made it to Mount Olympus and became a carrier of lightning for Zeus himself.”

When Castiel looked at Dean again, he saw that Dean was staring at him with his eyebrows raised and a goofy, toothy grin.

“What?” Castiel asked in a tiny voice.

Dean just squeezed at his fingers. “You really love all of this stuff, don’t you?”

Castiel nodded and looked back to the paintings again. He reached out to touch the dried paint on the canvas and swiped his thumb in the direction of the brushstroke. “Art tells stories where words fail. I like that. And this…this painting is beautiful.”

Dean brought the hand not gripping Castiel’s up to Cas’ cheek and swiped his thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”

Castiel blushed, heat rising from his chest all the way up to the tips of his ears. His heartbeat was thrumming in his chest, beating wildly like a panicked bird trapped in a steel cage. Okay so maybe, just maybe, Castiel was a tiny bit in love with Dean. He had felt this feeling building for a long time, but he’d denied it through and through because they’d only known each other a few months. But Dean knew him, _really_ knew him, so much more than anyone else ever had. That scared him and so he did what he always did when things got heavy, he ignored it. He kissed Dean sweetly for a moment and then took his hand to lead him further into the museum.

They left the exhibit, going to explore the other floors of the museum. They visited rooms dedicated solely to art from different cultures, African and Japanese, European and American Indian. They stepped out on the terrace and then toward the end of the night they ventured to the outside of the museum, where multiple statues and sculptures were displayed out front. As they made their way back toward the exhibit, Castiel’s stomach rumbled loudly causing Dean to snort with laughter. Dean ushered him back through the museum and to the car, turning the radio on an old classic rock station during their short drive. They drove the car down two long streets before pulling into the parking lot of a large restaurant called Fogo de Chao. When they walked in the door, the waiting area was packed and Castiel began to suggest finding another place to have dinner before Dean was tugging him through the crowd of people, up to the hostess. Dean had made a reservation. They were taken to their table immediately and while the atmosphere of the restaurant was beautiful, it became clear to both boys very soon that they were way out of their element. Neither of them knew how to pronounce half of the items on the menu and Dean had to shush Castiel multiple times when he verbally worried about the insane prices. They ended up ordering some specialty cheese bread to start, filet mignon with rice and black beans as a meal (mostly because that was the only thing both of them had actually _tasted_ before, so they figured it was a safe choice.), and separate desserts. Castiel had opted for a mousse-like papaya crème pudding served in a short wine glass, while Dean predictably went with a plate of chocolate molten lava cake. They shared spoonfuls of their sugary treats across the table, laughing and blushing as they tasted what the other had ordered. Dean completely maintained that his cake far surpassed the papaya crème. The picture they made together at that moment was completely and utterly…domestic. It wasn’t long before they headed home, and Castiel nodded off on the way. The walk at the museum and the richness of the food combined had tired him out completely, especially coupled with the crippling realization that he was head over heels, batshit crazy in love with Dean. Yes, it was a tiresome day. He thought he’d only nodded off for a moment, but when he opened his eyes again, it was due to the slamming of the car door where Dean had just gotten inside. Castiel sat up quickly and looked around, confused, seeing that they were back in Topeka in the parking lot of a craft store that they’d passed on the way out of town that morning.

Dean looked up at him, almost shyly, before settling a plastic bag in his lap. “Good to see you awake.”

Cas smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I guess I went into a food coma. What are we doing here?”

“Uh,” Dean started and blushed. He shifted the bag around again and turned in his seat so he was facing Castiel more directly. “Let me show you.”

Dean opened the bag and pulled out a thick booklet of paper, handing it to Castiel. It was a sketchbook. Castiel looked up at him with a smile.

Dean rubbed a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “I, uh, I’ve been watching you draw sometimes when we’re in our dorms and I noticed that you were getting to be on the last few pages so I thought you could use a new one. And, uh, these.” he reached his hand back into the bag and pulled out a small metal case full of professional grade drawing pencils.

“Dean…” Cas started.

“There’s more,” Dean cut him off. His hand dove back into the back and came out with something grasped in his palm. When he opened his hand, there was what looked like a bunched up brown suede necklace. “I know this isn’t that great because I threw it together right after I walked away from the register, but…”

He handed over the piece of jewelry and Castiel unwound it. It was a dark brown strand of suede, tied into a necklace long enough to slip over Cas’ head. On the end of the necklace there was a black and silver, glass, serpent-shaped pendant with a winding tail, and the suede looped through the holes; and on either side of the pendant was a silver wing-shaped charm, with tiny black gems adorning the feathers.

Castiel stared at it, completely and utterly amazed. For a spur of the moment gift, it was….it was perfect. He tried to speak, but his mouth opened and closed several times and no noise came out. Dean was shifting nervously in his seat, wiping his palms on his pants and staring at Castiel, waiting for a reaction.

“D-do you like it?” He asked quietly. “I know it’s not much, but when I went to grab the sketchbook I passed this aisle full of charms and stuff. I thought it was a little girly at first but I spotted that snake thing there and remembered what you said about Medusa. And those wings kinda matched the snake’s color, so it’s like Medusa and the Pegasus, right? Pegasus was born of her blood or whatever.”

Castiel didn’t register that his eyes had filled up with tears until several had dropped from his eyelids and onto his cheeks. Dean’s hands were instantly on his face, his thumbs swiping the tears away and his eyes roaming frantically around Castiel’s face.

“Cas, what-“

For what seemed like the billionth time that day, Castiel cut off Dean’s words with a kiss. He balled up his fist around the necklace and fisted the other in Dean’s hair. He poured out all of his gratitude, lust, appreciation, and _love_ into the kiss and Dean gave back as good as he got. It was there in the Impala, with a flawless gift in his hand and Dean’s lips hot on his, that Castiel realized without a doubt…

 

Dean loved him too.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene that was suppose to come next is taking longer than expected to write (writer's block will be my demise) so I decided to write up a little drabble of Dean's POV from the last bit of the previous chapter :3 ENJOY.

Dean had planned on buying Castiel a new sketchpad and pencils all day. He figured that paired with the museum trip and dinner, a sketchpad was a small enough material gift that Castiel wouldn’t complain about Dean spending too much money or buying him something when he specifically told him not to. The necklace, however, that was a surprise. If you could call it a necklace anyway. Dean saw the pendants in the store and grabbed the suede cord before he could talk himself out of it. On his way outside the craft store, one of the female stockers saw him fumbling while he tried to loop the pendants onto the cord in a visually appealing way. She stepped up and gave him an extra hand because she sometimes made her own jewelry, and they pieced together a necklace for Cas that Dean was hoping he liked, despite the hurried decision to make it. If the _situation_ in the parking lot hadn’t happened, Dean probably never would have thought about making the necklace at all.

They were just barely outside of Kansas City when Castiel fell asleep in the passenger’s seat, both of his hands softly clutching at the fingers on Dean’s right hand. He was counting the date as a win if it had totally worn Cas out. He snuck glances at his peacefully snoozing boyfriend for the duration of the ride, but when he pulled into the parking lot of the craft store, he ran his hand through Castiel’s soft hair and tried to wake him gently. He wanted Castiel to come inside with him and pick out the sketchpad and pencils he wanted, because Dean knew next to nothing about art supplies, but Castiel just snuffled in his sleep and burrowed deeper into the seat. Dean sighed and resigned himself to wrangling up an employee to get him the best quality stuff inside. He made sure to put his cell phone in his pocket just in case Cas woke up while he was inside and wondered where he’d gone off to, and he took off his jacket to drape it over Cas. He was leaving the car running with the heat on, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that Cas was warm enough. He was about to open the car door and step out into the chilly November air, when he heard Cas shuffle beside him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Cas unconsciously burrowing his face into his jacket and inhaling the familiar cologne that Dean had spritzed on himself that morning.

Cas made a tiny, pleased noise and tightly clutched the fabric of Dean’s jacket in both of his hands. “Mmm, love you, Dean,” he mumbled blearily, clearly still asleep.

Dean stopped breathing. His lungs screamed in protest as he quietly opened and closed the car door and speed walked to the entrance of the store, where he finally sucked in huge lungfuls of air.

_He didn’t mean it._

_He’s unconscious._

_He was dreaming._

_There is no way in hell he meant that because he is asleep and he was having a dreamandohmygodholyshitCastieljustsaidhelovesmeandjesusfuckthatisnotokay._

Dean loved him too, of course he did, but he wasn’t just going to _tell_ Cas that. They’d only known each other a couple of months and it would be irresponsible for him to put that kind of pressure on Castiel. He knew that Cas felt strongly about him; he felt it in the way Cas looked at him when he thought Dean wasn’t looking, he felt it in the tingle of his skin whenever Cas’ hand brushed his, and he knew it every time that he lay behind Cas at night with his arms wrapped around his waist and Cas’ hands trailing lightly over his until he fell asleep. But Cas didn’t love him yet, right? He was sleeping. Sleeping. _He was sleeping._

Dean panicked all the way through the store, up until he reached the aisle where all the pendants and jewelry making things were. His eyes zeroed in on a winding glass pendant in the shape of a serpent and he immediately thought back to the blaze of excitement in Cas’ eyes when he talked about Medusa at the museum. Suddenly the sketchpad felt cheap and unworthy, like something that parents would buy. He wanted to make this for Cas to let him know that he was listening, and will always listen, when he talks about the things he loves.  He grabbed the pendant and brown suede cord from the shelf and took them up to the register with sketchpad and pencils. On one of the shelves by the register there was another assortment of charms on a spinning showcase, and that was where he saw two silver wing pendants with black jewels encrusted on the creases of the feathers. He didn’t even hesitate to grab them and toss them into the pile of his purchases.

Cas woke up as soon as Dean got back in the car and he presented Cas with the gifts wearing a sheepish smile. He expected Cas to smile, and maybe hide a giggle or three behind his hand, when he looked at the shabbily put together necklace. What he was not expecting was the immediate spring of tears to his eyes and a glow of pure, unadulterated adoration before he lunged at Dean and claimed his mouth in a rough kiss. Cas had immediately slipped the necklace over his head once their lips parted, and his fingers fiddled with it idly for the remainder of the quiet car ride home. They got back to the house at seven-thirty, and Dean was surprised to see that his parents’ car was still not in the driveway. There was a red 98’ Buick Lesabre parked on the curb outside the house though, which meant that Sammy had one of his little nerd friends over while the house was empty. With one last affectionate tug at Cas’ fingers, the two of them exited the car and headed up the walkway to the front door.

Immediately upon entering the house, Dean was met with the thrum of muted bass. Upstairs Sam must have been playing his music or his weird little games with the speakers all the way up. The booming was almost shaking the house so Dean rolled his eyes and went to kick some dork-ass. If their parents got home with the speakers that loud, Sammy would be grounded until he was out of college. He dragged a still dazedly smiling Castiel behind him and kissed him lightly on the lips before ushering him into his bedroom with a little slap on the butt.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said with another roll of his eyes. “Gotta play mom to the deaf nerds for a sec.” Cas just nodded and let his eyes trail after Dean as he turned to Sam’s door.

When he was right in front of the door to the room, it became clear that it was just music and not some heavy shooter game or something. He vaguely recognized the song as something by one of Sam’s favorite little hipster bands, and while Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste, he was thankful that at least he hadn’t caught his little brother listening to Lady Gaga or something. He turned the door handle and swung the door open, with every intention of waltzing up to the stereo and unplugging it, and stopping to slap Sam on the back of the head Jethro Gibbs-style on the way; but when he opened the door, he was frozen in shock. Sam was not playing a videogame or studying or geeking out with one of his nerd friends. Sam was lying half-draped across a tiny little blonde girl, with one hand moving inside her unzipped jeans and his tongue playing tickle fight with her tonsils. They were both shirtless, but thankfully Sam’s pants and the girl’s bra were still firmly in place. Now that the door was open, Dean could hear the small moans and gasps of the girl beneath Sam and he saw the way her hips were arching up slightly from the bed. Dean saw Cas come up behind him out of the corner of his eye, probably wondering what had Dean frozen in the doorway, and when he looked into the room he gave a small gasp and fled back to Dean’s room. Sam had yet to notice that they’d been caught. Dean stalked over to the stereo and slapped the power button, cutting off all the music in a split second.

Both teenagers jerked back; Sam ripping his hand out of the girl’s pants and the girl shouting curses and grappling for a sheet to cover herself. Dean leveled a hard stare at Sam while the girl held a sheet over her body and her hands over her face and Sam had bunched up a pillow in his lap.

“What the hell are you doing, Dean?” Sam yelled at him, his face red with anger, and probably something else that Dean didn’t even want to _think_ about.

Dean’s hands flew up in frustration. “What the hell am I doing? What the hell are YOU doing? You’re just lucky I’m not Mom or Dad! Are you fucking insane?”

The girl peeked through the slits in her fingers at Sam as he huffed back at Dean. “Mom and Dad aren’t going to be home until seven, Dean.”

“It’s seven-thirty, asshat.”

Sam’s face paled and he clutched tighter at the pillow he was hoarding overtop of his jeans. Dean belatedly realized that Sam was using the pillow to cover what had to be a very obvious boner. Dean grimaced and pointed at his little brother, making vomiting noises before turning back toward the door.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He heard Sam scoff at his back and once Dean was back in his own room, Sam must have untangled himself from the sheets, because his bedroom door slammed shut and he heard the teens’ muted voices through the wall. A few minutes later, the two of them emerged from Sam’s room and headed downstairs. Dean hovered outside his bedroom door and listened to Sam say goodbye, grimacing again when he heard the brief smack of lips.

“It was nice to meet you, blondie!” Dean called down the stairs.

He heard Sam’s quiet snarl and the girl’s laughter before she yelled back. “You too!”

Okay, he liked her.

When Sam trudged back up the stairs to his room, his face was still pink and Dean gave him a small punch on the shoulder.

“She was cute.”

Sam just rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Jerk.”

Dean just laughed, “Bitch.”


	21. Chapter 21

It was another full hour before Dean’s parents got home, despite Dean and Sam’s multiple attempts to call and text their phones. Each time they’d dial the number, both phones would go straight to voicemail. When Mary and John finally herded themselves through the door, they spouted off immediate apologies for being late. The card game at Ellen’s had gotten a little more intense than usual and a couple beers turned into a couple glasses of whiskey, so they had to wait until one of them sobered up enough to drive back home.

Mary, upon seeing Castiel, immediately presented him with a large white box and a slightly guilty expression. “I’m sorry, Castiel. I know you guys are leaving at nine for Ash’s house, so I don’t have time to make your cake like I promised, but I picked this up from the new bakery around the corner. I hope you aren’t upset.”

Castiel just smiled at her. “Of course not, Mrs. Winchester. You didn’t have to do that.”

She just smiled and brushed past him to the kitchen, where she sat the cake on the counter. Dean, infinitely more interested in the cake than Cas was, followed behind her like a puppy and peeked over her shoulder at the dessert. His eyes immediately went wide.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled. “Cas, you gotta come see this.”

Castiel made his way to the kitchen, with John and Sam not far behind; the sugary sweet smell of chocolate and coconut was permeating the air and making everyone’s mouths water. When he peeked into the bakery box, his eyes bugged out to match Dean’s. The cake inside was a masterpiece. It was a large, rectangular creation with ribbons of light frosting decorating the edges. The sides of the cake were covered in a wall of shredded coconut and crushed pecans, and in each corner, a group of fresh, ripe raspberries were gathered and covered in a dusting of dark chocolate shavings.

“Holy crap,” Sam breathed from somewhere behind them. “Mom, you should drunk-buy cake more often. This is awesome.”

Mary flicked him on the ear. “I am not drunk, Samuel.”

Sam rubbed at his ear and laughed. “Come on, let’s eat it!”

“It’s Castiel’s cake, Sam,” Mary chastised. “We’ll eat it when he wants to.”

“Now please,” Castiel chimed in immediately, causing everyone to laugh. The papaya crème at Fogo de Chau was absolutely wonderful, but having his favorite cake sitting so invitingly in front of him made it impossible to refuse.

Mary cut enormous pieces for everyone, even Dean, who enjoyed the cake immensely but still maintained that nothing would ever beat a well-made apple pie. Castiel kept a hand at his collarbone while he dug into his birthday cake, fumbling with his necklace and smiling at the constant tingle where it sat against his chest.

“So,” John spoke up mid-bite, looking at Dean. “Where did the two of you go off to today looking all fancy?”

Dean pushed at the remaining cake on his plate with his fork. “I took Cas to Nelson-Atkins Art Museum in Kansas City, and then we went out to dinner.”

John nodded, clearly pleased, and turned to Sam. “What about you? What did you do with the house to yourself all day?”

Sam stiffened in his seat, glancing briefly up at Dean and Castiel before turning to his father and shrugging. “I just, you know, finished the last of my Calculus homework that’s due after break and played World of Warcraft for a few hours.”

John snorted. “You and that game, kid. I don’t understand it.”

When they finished all three boys stumbled upstairs. John and Mary camped out on the couch, watching NCIS and drifting in and out of a post-whiskey food coma.

Castiel and Dean were changing out of their date clothes and into something warmer and more comfortable for the races, when a slight knock sounded at the door. Dean granted them permission, and the door swung open to reveal a slightly sheepish looking Sam.

“Hey Dean,” he started. “Am…am I still allowed to come tonight after the whole, you know, Jess thing?”

“Yes, Sasquatch, you can still come.” Dean replied, lifting the long sleeved Henley over his head.

Sam shifted in place for a moment before continuing. “Why didn’t you tell on me downstairs?”

Dean shot him an exasperated look. “Really, Sam? I didn’t tell on you because I’m not twelve. You’re a smart kid, just don’t get her pregnant or something.”

Sam’s cheeks flamed. “I’m not…we weren’t…we weren’t doing _that_. Plus, Mom and Dad both had the sex talk with me when I was like fourteen, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“Good,” Dean replied with a grin. “Plus, now you owe me. I might need you to cover for me someday.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You mean like when you decide to screw Cas in the shower?”

Dean choked on air and Castiel dropped his coat, immediately covering his overheated face in with his hands. Castiel heard Sam snickering as he walked away, and he flopped down onto Dean’s bed to bury his face in the pillows.

“I knew I shouldn’t have had sexual relations with you in your parent’s house,” he moaned into the blankets.

Dean sat on the bed next to him, lightly chuckling, and stroked his fingers through Cas’ hair. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t the first time. He heard us the night we got here too.”

“Oh my god, Dean, _why would that make me feel better?_ ”

Dean just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because Sammy is used to it, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Well hooray for small miracles,” Castiel deadpanned, causing Dean to laugh again.

When Castiel still made no move to get off the bed, Dean scooted closer behind him and began scraping his fingers softly across his scalp. Both boys were silent and content, but Castiel’s mind was at war. He knew he felt too much for Dean too quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. It was the best birthday he had ever had, probably the best day of his life. He lifted his head from the blankets and shuffled even closer to Dean, keeping one hand still on the necklace, where it had been since he put it on. What he wasn’t expecting was for Dean’s hand to cover his overtop of the necklace, wrapping warm fingers around his own and stroking his thumb across his knuckles.

Castiel turned to look up at him and Dean was staring at the intertwined fingers around the pendants.

“You really do like this, then?” he asked. “You’re not just saying that because you feel obligated?”

Castiel sat up immediately and pressed his lips to Dean’s. “Of course I like it, Dean. I love it. You listened to the things that I like and you made something from it. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

Dean grinned at him cupped his hands around his neck, pulling Castiel forward into a happy, teeth-clacking kiss.

“Ugh, gross,” Sam voiced from the doorway, making the two of them spring apart. “We have to leave soon, you lovesick puppies.”

Dean just shooed him away and gave Castiel one last lingering kiss before standing and pulling him up by his wrists as well. Once they had their coats in hand and they bid their goodbyes to Dean’s parents, they piled into Dean’s car and headed to Ash’s apartment. Jo and Ash were waiting outside when they arrived, and once everyone was mashed up in the car, they headed to Junction City. Along the way, Jo unsuccessfully tried to make the entire group sing Happy Birthday to Castiel on multiple occasions, but only Sam and Ash would sing with her while Dean just laughed at Castiel hiding his face in his coat. For most of the long drive they ended up with Dean’s ACDC cassette in the tape player, rewinding the tape to play ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ on repeat, all five of them wailing the lyrics at the top of their lungs and never tiring of the song. They were running later than usual by the time they’d made it to the track, and the second Dean was out of his car, Eric snatched him up for a race. Simultaneously, when Cas had exited the car, Chuck came rushing up to him with a huge monologue for Castiel that gave him all the details about Chuck’s first drive there by himself. Turns out that Chuck was not very good with directions.

Dean raced three times before Castiel finally got a moment alone with him. Castiel, Sam, and Chuck were standing around the fire-can talking about Sam’s college plans, and Jo and Ash were making out against some unfortunate sucker’s car, when Dean slid up behind Castiel, wrapping his arms around his waist and propping his chin over his shoulder.

Castiel grinned immediately and turned to Dean. “Good race?”

Dean grinned right back. “Always.”

Sam made fake vomiting noises and Chuck shifted his eyes away.

“You guys are disgustingly affectionate, you know?” Sam said with a grimace.

Dean scoffed, his breath hitting the juncture of Castiel’s neck and shoulder. “Excuse me? You’ve got Dr. Badass and Nurse Sass over there who haven’t disconnected their faces since we got here and you’re giving _us_ shit?”

“I’m not related to them, Dean. Plus, I’ve never heard them doing….stuff.” Sam replied, his cheeks tinging pink.

Castiel felt his face heat up as well.

“Yeah,” Dean started, a smirk on his face. “Well, at least you didn’t _walk in_ on me with my hand in Cas’ pants. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“Dean,” Cas scolded, at the same time that Jo’s lips ripped away from Ash’s and shrieked “ _What?!”_

Sam flipped up the hood of his coat and glared at Dean, who was shaking with laughter, his nose buried in the shoulder of Castiel’s pea coat.

“Sam had his hand down Castiel’s pants?” Jo asked, incredulous.

Castiel slapped at Dean’s hand lightly and denied the accusation, while Sam’s simultaneously shouted his indignation;

_“Wha-no! I didn’t-that’s not…ugh!”_

_“Of course he didn’t!”_

Dean just squeezed his arms around Castiel a bit more tightly as tears of laughter flowed freely from the corners of his eyes. “No, Jo, you don’t get it!  Sammy had his—“

“ _Dean._ ” Sam warned.

“Aw, come on, Sammy,” Dean said with a smile. “You don’t want Jo to know all about your sexual prowess?”

Sam just threw up his hands in resignation and stomped off to the Impala.

Jo’s eyebrows were raised toward her hairline. “I am…so confused.”

Dean just chuckled. “I won’t give you the details, since Moosechild over there is being such a Sensitive Sally tonight. But, long story short, we caught Sammy with a girl at the house earlier. They were all locked up in his room together.”

Jo grinned. “I’m not sure whether to laugh at him like a big sister, or coo over his first love.”

Dean grimaced. “No cooing, please.”

As if magnetized, Jo drifted back toward Ash and they hooked themselves together again without hesitation. When Castiel turned to find Chuck, he saw that the other boy was no longer standing with them, but he was standing by his car talking on the phone. When he looked up and realized that Castiel was watching him, he covered the mouthpiece of his phone and mouthed ‘ _Becky_ ’ at Castiel, who nodded and turned back to his boyfriend.

Dean’s face was close to his, so close he could see each freckle and pore on his skin. There was no awkwardness as they stood and stared. One of Dean’s hands moved from Castiel’s waist and travelled upward, far enough to dip his fingers in the opening of Cas’ coat and run them along the glass pendant of his necklace.

“I really am glad you like this,” Dean said quietly.

Cas brought his fingers up to the pendant as well, brushing Dean’s with his own and smiling. After a few seconds, Dean’s fingers dropped off the necklace and he released Castiel from his hold, instead turning Cas to look at him and resting his hands on either side of his neck. Dean was still looking down at the necklace, but he was frowning, tapping his thumbs against Castiel’s neck like he was debating what he wanted to say next.

Dean looked unhappy and it scared him. He immediately brought his hands to rest lightly on Dean’s hips, pulling him in and breathing an enormous sigh of relief when Dean stepped closer instead of pulling away.

“Dean,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Dean looked up at him, brow still furrowed. “Nothing’s wrong, Cas, I’m just thinking about something.”

“Oh?”

Dean’s face finally relaxed, and he nodded once as if coming to a decision. “Yeah. You, uh, you talk in your sleep, you know.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “I do?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, you do. It’s cute, actually. You were doing it in the car on the way back from Kansas City.”

Cas brought one of his hands away from Dean’s hip to slap himself on the forehead. “Oh no, what was I saying? Was it really embarrassing?”

Dean smiled, huge and enthusiastic, before looking down at where his thumb was tapping against Cas’ pulsepoint. “You just…you said that—“

A loud, grumbling whir interrupted Dean’s words; a sound that both boys recognized from weeks ago. When they turned to the source, sure enough, they saw a glinting red Mustang pulling into the clearing. The driver, Crowley if Cas remembered correctly, got out and leaned against the hood of his car. He stared at Dean with a smug smile and his eyebrows raised expectantly.

Dean growled softly at the intrusion. “Stay here, Cas. I’ll be right back.”

“But-“

“ _Stay here._ This dude’s an asshole, just let me get rid of him, okay?”

Castiel nodded and Dean brushed his knuckles over his cheek quickly before walking over to the intruder. Castiel waited impatiently by the fire-can, his eyes never leaving Dean’s back as he spewed quiet, but angry words at the other driver. He couldn’t hear the proceedings, but he could tell by Dean’s body language that they were not friendly. Sam, having seen from the window of the Impala, made his way over to Castiel to watch as well; and although Castiel couldn’t see them, he knew that Jo and Ash were staring daggers at Crowley as well.

Suddenly, Dean jolted forward and grabbed at Crowley’s throat. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was a clear warning. Castiel immediately moved forward, intending to hook himself to Dean’s side and obliterate this smug bastard if need be, but Sam’s hand shot out to stop him.

“Cas,” he whispered. Castiel looked at Sam, only to see the younger Winchester’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted to the sky. “Cas, is that--?”

Castiel tilted his head as well and fought to concentrate around the noise of the clearing. He drowned out the voices, the car engines, and the music…and he heard it. Sirens.

No sooner than he heard them, Dean’s voice rang out from across the clearing.

“Cops!”

In an instant, the clearing went from a party to a shitstorm. People dropped their cups and grabbed their things, rushing to their cars and speeding across the track to the second exit that led to a series of backroads on the other side of town. One brave patron with a Jeep Wrangler bypassed the second road and drove straight into the woods, between a patch of trees that was just barely wide enough for a car to pass through.

“Fuck!” Jo shrieked, grabbing Castiel’s coat sleeve. Ash had her by the hand, dragging her to where Dean was screaming at Crowley. Sam’s hand was fisted in the back of Cas’ coat, hurrying behind them. Crowds of people brushed past them, pushing their way through to get to their vehicles before the police arrived. Everyone stumbled and held tight to one another, desperate to not get separated. Dean looked up, only for a second, locking panicked eyes with Castiel, only to be met with Crowley’s fist the moment he turned back. The stranger’s hand connected directly with the side of Dean’s face, effectively knocking him out.

“Dean!” Castiel screamed, shrugging out of Jo and Sam’s grips and sprinting to where his boyfriend lay unconscious on the ground. Jo, Ash, and Sam weren’t far behind him, crouching down at Dean’s side as soon as they saw him.

When Castiel looked up, he saw Chuck’s car driving across the grass toward the second entrance, where a line of cars was disappearing into the trees. Castiel flailed his arms and screamed Chuck’s name, thankfully grabbing his attention after only a few seconds. Chuck looked at him with wide, terrified eyes and tilted his head, indicating for them to hurry and get into his car.

Castiel grabbed Jo’s arm. “Jo, take Sam and go with Chuck.”

Jo looked at him, “But what about Dean?”

“I know. I’ll get him out, but you need to take Sam and leave now.”

“But-“

“Jo, go! He’s waiting, and you need to get out of here. The sirens are getting closer!”

Jo’s eyes shifted back and forth between Dean’s unconscious body, Cas’ face, and Sam before nodding. She grabbed Sam and Ash’s hands and they all ran to Chuck’s car, piling in as quickly as they could. Chuck gave him one last worried look before Castiel waved him away.

He worked out. He could lift Dean, right? He circled his arms underneath Dean’s armpits, locking his hands together behind his back and hoisted him up. The Impala wasn’t far away, but with an extra one hundred and sixty-something pounds of muscle, the trek was slow and painful. Once he was at the car, he had no choice but to lay Dean back on the ground while he opened the doors. Once he slid Dean’s body in the car, he searched for the keys but they were nowhere to be found. He got out of the car, searching the ground as well, hearing the sirens closing in. They had to be close to the first dirt road by now. He had less than two minutes to find the fucking keys.

“Looking for these?” A smug, accented voice called.

Castiel looked up to see Crowley standing next to the open door of his Mustang, dangling Dean’s keys from his finger. He stalked over to him and made to grab the keys, but Crowley, being a few inches taller, held them just out of his grasp.

“Ask nicely,” Crowley said with a sneer.

Castiel’s vision blurred with hatred. He didn’t have time to fight with Crowley, he had to get Dean out of there, but he wanted nothing more than to smash his fist right into the grimy bastard’s face.

“Give me the keys,” Castiel growled, low and threatening.

Crowley grabbed the door of his Mustang with his free hand, and kept the keys dangled in the other. “Tsk tsk tsk, princess. That wasn’t very nice. Can I get a ‘please’?”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to Crowley’s hand on the door before taking a step forward and smiling at Crowley. He pointed to the keys and when Crowley predictably raised his eyes to the keys in his hand, Castiel made the only move he saw possible. He swung his leg out, throwing the force of his whole body behind it, kicking the door to Mustang shut with Crowley’s unsuspecting hand still holding it. The sickening crunch of Crowley’s fingers was loud, and his painful scream echoed in the night air. The keys to the Impala slipped from his fingers, and before he could open the door and pry out his broken bones, Castiel snatched the keys and sprinted back to the Impala. He put the car in gear and sped off to the other side of the clearing, where the few small cars at the track left through the trees. The main exit was where the cops were sure to be flooding in and the second exit was probably still backed up with the last few cars that were trying to escape, so he took a deep breath and floored the gas pedal. The Impala was nowhere near as small as the other cars, so the first descent past the trees caught the right side mirror. It was hanging by a cord, beating against the side of the car over every bump and hill he drove past. He could see blue and red lights swirling above the trees in the rearview mirror, and he let out a huge sigh of relief when he finally came to the other edge of the woods, easing the car out between the trees and only scraping the body minimally on the bark.

He took a few back roads until he found a labeled concrete street that led to a small unfinished suburb. He parked the Impala in the driveway of an unfinished house and reached back to pull out Dean’s cell phone. He dialed Jo’s number immediately.

It barely rang once before she answered. “Dean?”

“No, he’s still passed out.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Where are you guys? Are you safe?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I parked in a suburb. Where are you guys at?”

“We’re at some diner called Stacy’s. We’ll wait for you.”

“Yeah, let me just pull it up on my GPS and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Be careful.”

He agreed and hung up. He put Dean’s phone on the passenger’s seat and let his head fall back on the headrest. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate back to normal. And it almost worked, until he heard a pained groan come from the back seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to comment and let me know how you're feeling about the story so far! I love hearing what you guys have to say.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not all I will be posting today! It's taken me longer than I'd hoped to write the next installment, but I figured I'd post this little tidbit for you while I finished. Dean's POV from the last few paragraphs of the last chapter. And check back again in a few hours when a new, much longer chapter will be posted!

_He had to tell him. Had to tell Castiel that he loved him. He just looked so adoringly at that damn necklace, like it was anchoring him. And he’d started to tell him, he really did. He was going to tell Castiel what he’d said while he was sleeping, and he would ask if it was true because he loved him right back. It had only been a few months, but they were so, so close to a happily ever after. So close, and then a familiar grumbling engine weaseled its way into the scene and broke the reverie. When Dean looked up to see that stupid red Mustang, he immediately tensed. Crowley got out of the car and leant against the hood, staring him down with an expectant look on his face. Nothing good could come from this._

_Dean growled in the back of his throat and pulled minutely away from Cas’ warmth. “Stay here, Cas. I’ll be right back.”_

_Cas’ hands tightened on his hips. “But-“_

_“Stay here,” Dean interrupted. “This dude’s an asshole, just let me get rid of him, okay?”_

_Cas frowned, but nodded nonetheless, loosening his grip on Dean’s waist. Dean brushed his knuckles softly across Cas’ cheek, and thankfully, this seemed to relax his boyfriend’s frown. He begrudgingly turned away from Castiel and stalked over to where Crowley was standing. He spared a quick glance at the innards of the Mustang, only to find that all of the equipment was still firmly intact._

_“I thought I told you, man,” Dean started. “Can’t race here unless you get rid of all that shit.”_

_Crowley just waved his hand. “Figured I’d give it another shot. I understand that inbreeding hicks like yourself don’t normally have the chance to make much money, so I came to make you an offer.”_

_“Not interested.” Dean ground out between clenched teeth._

_Crowley smirked. “You haven’t even heard the offer yet.”_

_Dean stepped closer into Crowley’s space, drawing himself to full height. “Still. Not. Interested.”_

_Crowley just straightened his posture to match Dean’s. “I’ll bet ten thousand dollars, and you can bet the title of your pretty little car.”_

_“Leave,” Dean stated._

_Crowley grinned and his eyes flitted over to where Castiel was standing. “You sure about that? You could buy a mountain of presents for your little boytoy with ten-K. I have to admit though, Dean, when I first met you I’d have never guessed you were a fa—“_

_Dean’s body reacted before he could think twice. His hand shot out and gripped tight around Crowley’s throat. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence if you value your life.”_

_Crowley just laughed, a growling, throaty sound from where his neck was held in Dean’s hand. “I had a feeling you’d say no,” he said in a strained voice, a smirk still plastered on his face. “Luckily, I always have a Plan B. Or, a Plan PD, if you will”_

_Dean immediately tore his hand from Crowley’s throat, as if he’d been burned. “You called the fucking cops because I wouldn’t race you?”_

_“Oh, nothing so brash,” Crowley said with a dismissive wave. “My uncle is a Junction City deputy, and I may or may not have mentioned your little games in passing at Sunday brunch. I must say, Dean, snitching goes well with a little white wine.”_

_He saw the self-satisfied grin spread across Crowley’s face the moment he heard the first hint of sirens. He took a few steps back, half-facing the crowd, but with his eyes fixed on Crowley._

_“Cops!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, his throat burning with the effort._

_No sooner than the words had left his throat did the field erupt in chaos. People littered their cups everywhere and sprinted for their cars, shoving one another in an attempt to vacate the area as fast as possible. People were tripping over garbage and each other’s feet, and his ears rang with the sound of people screaming and tires squealing. Finally taking his eyes off Crowley, he looked to the side to see Castiel, Jo, Ash, and Sam running for him, their faces all a mixture of shock, fear, and panic. He went to throw Crowley one last threatening glare before joining his clan in the mad dash to get away, but as he turned to face the other boy, he was met only with the blinding pain of a hard fist connecting with the side of his face._

_His knees buckled and he fell to the ground immediately, the last thing his brain registered before the world around him went black was Castiel screaming his name._


	23. Chapter 23

When Dean fluttered back into consciousness, pain lanced through his skull. A strong, stinging throb was present on the side of his face. He groaned and brought his fingers up to touch at the tender skin, where it felt swollen and puffy. He moved his fingers along the lumpy skin to take stock of the injury, but before he could move more than a few centimeters, delicate fingers were gripping his wrist and pulling it away from his face. He opened his eyes, noting that his right eye was too swollen to fully open, and saw Cas’ hand gripped around his wrist from where he was leaning over the driver’s seat of the Impala. He looked up at Castiel and saw his face clouded with worry, but slowly fading to something like relief. He let his eyes dart around their surroundings, noting that they were no longer in the field, surrounded by trees, but they were parked in the driveway of some unfinished house in a cul-de-sac.

“Y-you drove us out,” he croaked.

“Yeah,” Cas whispered back.

And then Dean remembered the others, he sat up immediately, wincing at the quick shift in position. His head throbbed and Cas brought up his hands trying to warn him away from moving.

“Cas, we need to get Sam!” He choked out, grimacing as he spoke through the pain.

Castiel clambered over the center console, completely bypassing the use of the car doors, and gently pushed Dean back into the seat. He rested his hands lightly on Dean’s chest, using his thumbs to draw soothing patterns over his layers of clothes.

“He’s fine, Dean, they’re all fine,” he assured him. “They’re with Chuck. The first thing we did was get Sam out.”

Dean relaxed immediately, exhaling a sharp, shaky breath.  He brought his hands up and rested them overtop of Castiel’s, squeezing lightly while he gathered his thoughts. Sammy was okay. Jo and Ash were okay. Castiel was okay, and he was there with him. Everyone was fine. So many things could have gone wrong, and it was all his fault, all because he wanted to feel the thrill of winning a race week after week after week. They could have all been sent to prison. And Sam, Sam was only sixteen for God’s sake! What was he thinking letting a sixteen year old come watch illegal drag races all this time? And the parties, with all that booze, and the trespassing on private property. He could have ruined his little brother’s life. Just the thought had him hyperventilating.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his thumbs gently reaching up to cup his face, wiping away the few small tears of distress that had escaped from his eyes. “It’s okay, Dean. Everyone’s okay. I mean, the car is kind of, you know, not okay. Some damage was done to the exterior when I drove us away from there, and I’m…I’m sorry. I know how much you love this car.”

Dean just huffed out a humorless laugh and circled his hands around Castiel’s narrow waist to bring him closer. He rested the uninjured side of his face against Cas’ chest and heaved in several shaky breaths before speaking. “I couldn’t give two shits about my car right now, Cas. I just...I…thank you. Thank you for getting Sammy out.”

Cas’ knees bracketed Dean’s hips where he straddled him and he drew his arms lightly around Dean’s shoulders. He brought one hand up to card through Dean’s hair, taking care to avoid the injured side of his face, and he dropped light, reassuring kissing to the top of his head. Dean was breathing heavily, but the fear and panic he felt was quickly subsiding.

After a few moments, when his breaths had stabilized, Castiel pulled back slightly. “We should go soon. Everyone is waiting for us at a little diner in town.”

Dean nodded and let his hands drag themselves from the small of Cas’ back to the front of his hips. He was a warm, solid weight on top of him and the only thing keeping Dean from burrowing deeply into a hole of guilt. His fingers clenched in the belt loops on Cas’ pants, bringing him impossibly closer and he rested his forehead against the side of Cas’ neck. Despite the blinding pain in the side of his skull, he found his body reacting to his boyfriend’s closeness. He instantly craved the steady, sure brush Cas’ fingers on his skin, and the warm slide of Cas’ tongue against his own.

“Dean,” he breathed. “You’re hurt.”

Dean looked up at Cas, his vision skewed by his bad eye. “You make everything better, Cas. I almost fucked up real bad, and I just want to feel better.”

It sounded so selfish when the words tumbled from his mouth, but Castiel's face softened in understanding. His thumbs swiped gingerly across Dean’s jaw before he leaned forward to close the space between them. The kisses stayed light, with barely there grazes and short smacks against the pink bows of each other’s lips. These, the tiniest of touches, were making Dean dizzy. It was insane, bordering on unfair, how such minute caresses from Castiel could set Dean’s entire body alight. The kisses became more hurried and filthy, but no less short, because Castiel was staying mindful of Dean’s injury; instead of small brushes of their lips, it became tongues flicking out and curling together, and blunt teeth nipping and pulling at plump, kiss-swollen flesh. Sometimes Cas’ teeth would catch on his tongue and the sharp bit of pain would make him wince, but it was a welcome feeling that took away from the pounding pain in his cranium. The car was bordering on too-hot, both his and Castiel’s brow covered in a light sheen of sweat, so Dean brought his hands up to push the coat off Cas’ shoulders and then do the same to his own. The backseat didn’t allow enough space to be properly prepped and fucked like his body seemed to want, but he doubted Cas would allow him that luxury in the state he was in anyway, so instead he reached for Cas’ belt. He vision was still blurry from his injury, and the dull thudding headache was making his movements sluggish, but after a few deft movements the belt was open and giving way to the button and zipper of his jeans. Cas busied his hands on Dean’s fly as well, and soon each was bared to the other. Cas shifted on Dean’s lap, swiveling his hips until their cocks slid together, causing them both to gasp.

Cas gathered both of them in his long-fingered grip and gave a gentle squeeze, bringing his other hand up to rest on Dean’s jaw. “Tell me, Dean, if it’s too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean nodded slowly, careful not to jostle his head. “It’s okay, Cas, know you won’t,” he mumbled, and placed his hand over Cas’ on their joined erections.

Cas’ eyes fluttered closed as their hands started to move together, sliding up and down and pressing their heated skin together in a tight grip. The uncut skin of Dean’s cock gave enough comfortable leeway as they stroked together, but the dry slide of hands wouldn’t be enough for Cas, so Dean grabbed Cas’ wrist and pulled it away from their joined lengths. When Castiel met his eyes, he cocked his head in question, perhaps afraid that Dean needed to stop already. Dean just smiled softly at him before bringing Cas’ hand to his mouth and running his tongue wetly across his palm. Cas exhaled a soft moan when Dean’s tongue curled around the tip of his middle finger, sucking lightly before sliding the muscle back down to thoroughly wet the skin. When Dean was satisfied with the way his tongue had coated Cas’ skin, he brought the hand back down to where their cocks were still nudging together, leaking precome and begging for attention. Cas immediately wrapped his fingers around them again and got to work faster than before, the desperate slip and slide of cocks and fingers going much easier with Dean’s saliva easing the way. Both boys were groaning, their eyes locked and their fingers digging into each other’s clothes; Castiel with his hand on Dean’s shirt collar and his thumb rubbing circles into his neck, and Dean with one hand clenching at the open V of Castiel’s jeans and the other gripped overtop of Castiel’s, working in tandem on their heated skin. Castiel came first, with a guttural moan punched from his chest. His cock spurted freely over their fingers, further slicking the way for their hands on Dean’s cock. The feel of Castiel’s come being used as lube on his cock was what eventually tore Dean’s orgasm from him. He shot over their fists, with spasms in his stomach muscles and high keening moans tumbling from his lips. The throb in his head was near unbearable in the split second before his orgasm, but once the pleasure had spiked throughout his system, everything seemed to relax. Endorphins took over his body, giving him a natural, sleepy happiness.

Cas twisted his body, pulling napkins out of the glovebox to clean their hands before tucking each of them safely back into their pants. He gathered Dean up close to him again, still mindful of his bruises, and Dean let himself be pulled into Cas’ chest. He was comfortable, and safe, and happy, but something was missing. He pulled back slightly to look at Castiel, and his gaze swept over his face, neck, and chest before he realized that Cas’ neck was completely empty.

“The necklace,” he said, reaching up to brush his fingers across Cas’ pulse.

Castiel frowned and looked down, immediately grabbing at his throat. “Oh no,” he breathed. “Damn it. It must have gotten snagged on something while we were pushing our way through the crowd at the track. Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled guiltily. “It’s my fault.”

Cas pressed Dean against him immediately, peppering his hair with small kisses and stroking his fingers down the back of his neck. “Don’t apologize, Dean. Not your fault. Never your fault.”

He was dangerously close to actually falling asleep against Cas’ warmth when a chirp from Cas’ phone alerted him that he had a new text message. Cas reached for his phone to check, sighing and peeling himself away from Dean after reading it.

“We need to get going,” he said quietly. “The others are starting to worry.”

Dean just nodded. Castiel lifted himself off Dean’s legs, opening the back door to get out and stretch. After both boys put their coats back on to fight off the November chill, Cas helped Dean move to the passenger’s seat up front. Dean insisted that he could walk just fine, and he could, but Castiel refused to leave his side. When Cas was back in the driver’s seat, he started the car and looked at Dean for a long moment.

“Y-you are okay, right?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Cas, I’m fine.”

Castiel schooled his features into a somewhat calmer demeanor and took a deep breath. The ride to the diner was short, and the pain in the side of his face was beginning to dissipate as he pressed the bruising to the cold passenger’s side window. When they entered the diner, the bell overtop of the door rang out and the few scattered patrons looked up at them, including Jo, Ash, Sam, and Chuck. Before they’d gotten more than a step inside the area, Sam was out of his seat and practically tripping over his feet to get to Dean. When he reached them, his arms flailed open and he crushed Dean into a too-tight hug, his fingers gripping the back of his coat like he was trying to tear through the leather.

“I’m alright, Sammy,” he said as he returned the hug.

When Sam finally stepped back, he could see the redness around his eyes. They weren’t puffy like he’d been crying, but they were strained, pink, and watery like he’d been holding tears back. “It’s Sam,” he choked out, managing a small laugh.

They made their way over to the table, where everyone demanded to know what happened after they’d left. Castiel gave them a recap of Dean’s lost time after Crowley knocked him out, and Dean could only listen in shock. Cas had dragged Dean’s dead weight to the car, more than likely broken Crowley’s hand, and escaped through the woods in the space of only a few minutes. The others were equally impressed, except Jo, who looked uneasy.

“That’s, you know, that’s technically assault I think,” She said with a worried look. “Couldn’t Cas get in trouble for something like that?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think he even knows any of our names, except mine. And he doesn’t know my last name.”

“I’m not worried,” Cas stated, a dark look crossing his face. “He should consider himself lucky that only his hand was broken after what he did to you. I am stronger than I look and I wanted to ruin him.”

“Way to make me feel like a damsel in distress,” Dean replied with a laugh. He winced when his too-big grin pulled at the skin on his face and made the bruising throb.

Cas’ features softened and he brushed his thumb against Dean’s cheek softly before getting up and walking to the front of the diner. He stopped by the cash register, where he exchanged a few words with one of the waitresses. She nodded at whatever he was saying and made her way back into the kitchen, only to return a few seconds later with a balled up dishtowel. Cas returned to his seat and pressed the bundle gently to the side of Dean’s face. It was damp from the ice trapped inside, but the cold wetness was more than welcome. After a few minutes, they paid the bill for the coffees they consumed while waiting for Dean and Castiel, and made the trip back home. Chuck had gone his separate way, and Jo, Ash, and Sam piled into the back of the Impala. Castiel drove them back to Topeka while Dean was hunched in the passenger’s seat, pressing the ice to the side of his face. Instead of taking the risk of facing their parents, they decided it was probably best to camp out at Ash’s apartment for the night. Jo and Ash, after making sure Dean didn’t have a concussion, made their way into Ash’s bedroom to sleep. Sam agreed to take the couch, and Dean and Castiel settled into his den on the pull-out couch.

They’d been sleeping in the same bed for weeks, and each night it was the same, with Dean spooned behind Castiel and their legs tangled up like headphone cords. Tonight, though, Dean lay on his left side with his bruises exposed and untouched, and Castiel was curled behind him with his arm laying protectively across his hip and abdomen.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispered.

“What for?”

Castiel shifted, nosing along the knob of his spine and planting a small kiss at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that moron ruined the races for you. I know how much you loved them.”

Dean smiled sadly to himself and let his fingers dance along Cas’ before he intertwined them. “I’m just glad you guys are all okay and not, you know, imprisoned because of me. I can’t thank you enough for knowing to get Sammy the hell outta there.”

 Cas squeezed his fingers. “He’s important to you, Dean, so he’s important to me. Get some sleep, okay?”

Dean mumbled his assent and shifted himself backward, closing every inch of available space between him and Castiel, and he felt Castiel press his lips to his shoulder once, twice, three times, before settling with his face nuzzled deep into Dean’s neck.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter gave me legitimate pains in my chest. It's totally okay to hate me for this, because I hate me a little bit too.

Things were quiet. For weeks they waited, nervous and afraid, for the police to show up at their dorms or their parent’s houses; but nothing ever came. Dean swore they’d be fine because Crowley never knew their full names or where they actually lived, and Castiel believed him. The day after the last race, Dean and Ash went to the nearest auto shop and picked up what they needed to fix Dean’s side mirror and cover up the scratches in the paint. It wasn’t a perfect job, but it was enough to keep Dean’s parents from noticing and asking questions. When they went back to Dean’s house to gather their things, the sound of Mary screaming almost broke through Castiel’s eardrum. She looked at her son in horror when she saw the deep purple and sickly green bruises covering the side of his face. Dean, of course, just laughed it off and made up a story about how he and Ash had gotten carried away wrestling. He lied and said that his face caught the corner of Ash’s coffee table, and she shouldn’t worry because he’s just fine. Both John and Mary looked suspicious at first, but eventually they let out mutual sighs of relief and told Dean to be more careful. Their first day back at KU, Dean’s workshop professor allowed him to use the garage space in the shop to properly fix the damage to the Impala. Professor Fitzgerald, while a little eccentric, was definitely a nice guy.

It wasn’t until a month later, the beginning of Christmas break, that they finally stopped checking for cops out the windows of their dorms every morning, or panicking when they saw a police cruiser driving through town. Dean and Castiel had just finished their fall semester, both passing their exams with flying colors. Even with the added stress of Crowley's actions pitted in the back of their minds, they had both managed to finish with a 4.0. Dean had sworn his good grades were due to the very sexual study games they created to quiz one another. One right answer equaled one less piece of clothing. Castiel agreed wholeheartedly. Mary and John had invited Castiel to spend break at their home again, but he’d politely declined because his parents weren’t traveling this time and Michael was going to come back home for the holidays. Instead, he and Dean had agreed to spend Christmas with their own families and if he was granted permission, Castiel would have Dean come and spend New Year’s Eve with him.

Every year, the Novaks put on a large party in the Sheraton Hotel Ballroom celebrating the New Year with the colleagues and friends of Castiel’s father and grandfather, and some friends of the family. Castiel has attended alone each year, being forced to dance with the daughters of their guests, but this year he wanted to bring Dean as his date. His family knew of his sexual orientation, of course, but the guest list was largely composed of people in religious lines of work and study; Castiel did not know exactly how many of them followed more strict religious morals. While his parents accepted his sexuality, they were also very keen on preserving their reputation. James and Amelia Novak were pillars of the community in Overland Park, frequently holding or attending charity events, encouraging and doing volunteer work for local schools and churches, and of course, his father traveled around the country promoting his self-help books, teaching seminars, and lecturing about the positivity of faith and spirituality. The only person in Castiel’s family who was not supportive of his sexuality was his grandfather, Zachariah Novak. He taught Religious Studies at Harvard for most of the seventies, moving on to become a widely known televangelist once Castiel’s father had gone off to college. While Castiel’s father, James, taught love and acceptance in the name of the Lord, his grandfather taught his followers the consequence of sin and the horrors that lay in the afterlife if you stray away from the Lord Jesus Christ.

Every year since he came out to his family, Zachariah would find a girl near Castiel’s age and steer her over to him with a determined look. When he was sixteen, it was Hester McCarthy.

_“Castiel,” Zachariah started. “This is Hester. Her parents own the company that published your father’s last book. Don’t be rude, Castiel, ask her to dance.”_

The dance was awkward to say the least. They danced an arm’s length apart for the duration of _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ , but he excused himself to go to the restroom afterward, walking quickly past his grandfather’s spiteful eye to hide out in the men’s room for the rest of the party. The next year, his grandfather cornered him three different times, with three different young ladies; a gossipy teen named Rachel Martin, a shy brunette named Tessa O’Brien, and Naomi Williams, the pietistic daughter of some of Zachariah’s most devout followers. Castiel smiled politely at each girl, made vague small talk, and excused himself after each dance, much to his grandfather’s chagrin. The day after each party, at their family dining table, Castiel’s grandfather would scold him in front of his parents and siblings, Michael and Claire. His father had interrupted once and asked if they could please just have a nice, quiet family dinner, but most times everyone would sit with their heads bowed while Zachariah would criticize Castiel’s behavior at the party and make mocking remarks about his sexuality. At seventeen, his grandfather had approached him and informed him that this sexuality crisis would be over soon because it was nothing but a phase. The previous Christmas, just after Castiel had turned nineteen, his grandfather had decided that it wasn’t a phase but a disease that needed to be cured. Castiel was not looking forward to the holidays, but if Dean was there with him perhaps his grandfather would be able to see that what they had was not ugly or sinful, but wonderful and happy.

It was Christmas Eve when Castiel finally gathered the courage to ask his parents. They were sitting down for dinner after a day of wandering the town. Both Michael and Castiel were too old to really enjoy looking at the Christmas lights and decorations that adorned people’s yards, but Claire was only ten and her face still lit up with joy at the sight, so the tradition was kept alive. They’d bundled up in their warmest clothes and drove to the divinely lit downtown area, where they walked around from noon to early evening.

Just as Castiel’s mother was placing the last dish of food on the table, the front door opened and his grandfather entered the house. He hung up his long, expensive wool coat and came to take his seat at one end of the dining room table. His father sat directly across from Zachariah at the other end, with his mother and Claire sitting to the left, and Castiel and Michael sitting on the right.

“You’re late, Papa,” Claire said with a small grin, breaking the silence.

Their grandfather pursed his lips and turned to her. “Please, Claire, call me Grandfather, or Grandpa if you must. ‘Papa’ is what uneducated hillbillies call their grandfathers.”

Claire’s smile deflated. “Sorry, Grandpa.”

Castiel’s mother had her jaw clenched tight, clearly upset but unwilling to speak and cause trouble. Castiel knew that the cause of her disappointment was Zachariah’s blatant disregard of her own father, who allowed and enjoyed for Claire to call him ‘Papa’ when he was still alive. She busied herself by fixing Claire’s plate while the rest of the family quietly served themselves.

“I do apologize for being a bit late,” his grandfather said, finally breaking the silence. “I got held up on the phone with my travel agent. I was booking my flight to Phoenix for my _Heaven or Hellfire_ book tour. James, have you decided when you’ll be doing your next tour?”

Castiel’s father set the serving forks back on the tray of roasted chicken before shaking his head. “Not yet, Dad. I’d like to spend a little more time at home before traveling again. The trip to California last month took weeks to plan and with the New Year’s party coming up, I haven’t had much time to think about another tour just yet.”

 _Well,_ Castiel though. _Now’s as good a time as any._

He cleared his throat. “Th-that reminds me, Father,” Castiel stammered. “I was wondering if it might be acceptable for me to bring a guest to the party this year.”

His parent’s faces lit up, Claire’s eyes remained fixed on the food she wasn’t yet allowed to touch, and Michael turned to give him a disbelieving look. His grandfather eyed him suspiciously, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his fingers together.

“Of course, Castiel,” His father answered. “That would be--“

“What is her name,” Zachariah interrupted. Castiel’s father shot a small look at his own father before glancing back at Castiel.

Castiel’s eyes fell to the plate of food in front of him. “His name is Dean,” he said quietly. “Dean Winchester.” Michael’s eyes bulged in recognition, but he stayed silent, and his parents smiled softly at him so he continued. “We met at school and we have been seeing each other for nearly two months. He introduced me to his family during Thanksgiving break, and so I would like to introduce him to mine.”

Castiel’s father settled a hand lightly overtop of his wrist. “That would be great, Castiel. We can’t wait to meet him.”

Castiel beamed. That is, until his grandfather spoke.

“No,” Zachariah stated simply.

Both of Castiel’s parent’s eyes shot to Zachariah, and they began speaking simultaneously.

“Dad, it’s—“

“Zachariah, surely—“

Zachariah slammed his open palm down on the table, effectively silencing everyone and making Claire whimper. “No,” he said again. “The Novak family New Year’s celebration is a pure and moral event. I will not have homosexual filth seeping into the crevices, especially not by my own grandson.”

“Dean is not filthy,” Castiel retorted through clenched teeth. “And neither am I.”

“If a man also lie with mankind as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination,” Zachariah quoted with his eyes screwed shut and a finger pointed accusingly at Castiel.

“Then surely we shall be put to death!” Castiel yelled back angrily. His father put a restraining hand on his shoulder but he shook it off. He’d never raised his voice to his parents or grandparents, but he was seething. If Zachariah wanted to quote the Bible at him, he could do it too. “Is that what you’d like, Grandfather? Shall I be hanged or stoned to death for who I’ve fallen in love with?”

Zachariah scoffed at him. “Of course not, Castiel. You can still be fixed yet. You may always pray to the Lord for salvation, and perhaps you could start by saying Grace tonight.”

Zachariah held out his hands at either side, waiting for Michael and Claire to place their palms in his. It took a moment, but each of them finally connected hands; all but Castiel. Michael had one palm outstretched to Castiel’s right, and his father’s hand mirrored the same position to his left.

“No,” Castiel said, hands placed firmly in his lap.

“Castiel, please,” his father urged quietly.

“No,” he replied again. “I will not say Grace to a God that couldn’t _possibly_ love me for loving a man, I will not ask for forgiveness, and I will not attend your ridiculous party unless I can have the one person, the one _man_ , who makes me happiest in attendance with me.”

Zachariah stood, his chair toppling over with the sheer force of his movement, and stomped over to where Castiel was sitting. His hands gripped tight onto Castiel’s shoulders and he leaned in to his ear.

“I will not listen to this putrid dirt spill from your sinning mouth anymore, boy,” he spat angrily. “You will be attending our family’s event because it is your obligation as a son, no ‘ifs’, ‘ands’, or ‘buts’ about it. The life you choose to lead is grotesque and wrong, but for one night you will pretend that you are a good, God-fearing young man.”

With that, Zachariah paraded to the door to grab his coat and left without another word. Castiel looked up at his family; his father’s eyes were closed, one hand pinching at the bridge of his nose and the other gripping the edge of the table, Michael was staring silently at his plate, and his mother was holding a softly crying Claire to her chest and giving Castiel a pinched look.

“Thank you very much, Father, for standing up for me,” he said sarcastically, before rising from his seat. “May I please be excused? I am no longer hungry.”

He didn’t wait for his father’s answer before turning to the archway leading out of the dining room. He fled through the family room and up the stairs to his bedroom. The first thing he did once his bedroom door was locked, was pull his cell phone from his pocket and dial Dean’s number. He answered on the first ring, and as soon as Dean’s adoring voice bled through the speaker he knew; Dean was the only salvation he would ever need.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nothing but porn. Not sorry.

Redness bled into the edge of Dean’s vision as he listened to Castiel on the other end of the phone. Yes, he was bummed out that he wouldn’t be able to see Castiel on New Year’s Eve, but that paled in comparison to the wild rage he felt toward the grandfather he’d never met for making Cas feel the way he did. He could tell from the shake in his voice and the frequent heaving breaths that Cas was near tears and it was killing Dean that he wasn’t there to comfort Cas in person.

“You can still come to my house if you need to get away from there, Cas,” Dean told him over the phone.

Cas sighed heavily on the other end. “I know, Dean, thank you. I cannot even begin to describe how much I hate my grandfather, but I would like to spend time with my parents.”

Dean scoffed lightly. “They didn’t even stick up for you. I’d have never let somebody talk to you like that.”

“I know,” Cas replied. “But they’re my parents. I’m angry, but I don’t love them any less. Oh, hold on.” There was a slight shuffling noise on Cas’ end, like he was covering the receiver of the phone.

Dean heard Cas’ muffled voice talking to someone, his tone very short and terse, but Dean couldn’t make out any of the words. He heard an even quieter female voice responding to whatever it was that Castiel was saying. There was a slight bang, like a door slamming and the female voice was gone.

Another shuffle and Castiel was back. “My apologies, Dean. That was my mother. Michael is taking our sister out for ice cream and my parents are going to my grandfather’s house, probably to try and calm him down. They asked me if I’d like to come with them; a bit audacious after the way he acted toward me. They’re out of their minds if they think I am going to apologize for defending myself.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” Dean said as he lay on his bed. His parents were downstairs sharing a bottle of Bobby’s homemade _adult_ eggnog, probably being embarrassingly goofy, and when he’d looked in on Sam he was honed in on his computer screen. He was fighting ogres or demons or whatever monsters were in his little nerdgame and he was wearing his big, silly-looking headset. He called out to him and called him a dork, but Sammy didn’t call him a name or even flinch so he probably had his volume up too high to hear. “It’s kind of quiet here, you know. Ever since you came home with me for Thanksgiving, my own room is too big without you in it. I miss you, Cas.”

He heard Cas laugh softly. “I miss you too, Dean.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Maybe, you know, after New Year’s you could come spend a night or two with me here? Winter semester doesn’t start until a week after and Mom’s dying to see you again.”

“I would like that very much. Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

Castiel hesitated on his end before speaking. “Do you…do you remember the night of the race, in the car after?”

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “Uh, which part are you referring to? I mean, I was blacked out in the back seat for a while there.”

“You know which part I am talking about,” Castiel huffed. “In the backseat.”

Dean’s face grew warm. Boy, did he ever remember. He was in pain and his face was swollen, one eye nearly swollen shut, but it was such a heightened experience. Being in such a cramped space where all he could feel was Castiel and the desperation leaking from both of their skin. “I remember that very, very well.”

“I think you had the right idea that night, Dean.”

Dean frowned to himself. “What do you mean?

Another hesitation. “I just want to feel better. You said that night that I made everything better, and that…it works the other way around too, you know.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “Cas, are you trying to—“

“I need to be touched, Dean,” Castiel interrupted. “Since you can’t touch me from there, I’ll just have to do it myself. D-do you want to help me?”

“Always, Cas,” Dean responded immediately. “Always want to be there for you, in whatever way.”

“I suppose it is a good thing that everyone in my household has left,” Cas said into the phone. “I find it very hard to be quiet with you.”

Dean grinned, slipping easily into situation. “I know, baby. That’s one of the things I love most. I like hearing the way you sound when you’re inside of me.”

He heard Castiel take a shuddering breath. “I-I have an idea. A request, of sorts.”

Dean reached down to silently undo the buckle on his belt. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“S-since I have issues with my body and I cannot physically bottom, I thought that….you know, maybe we could…p-pretend?”

Dean’s fingers immediately stilled. “You want to talk about you getting fucked instead?”

“Um,” Castiel started nervously. And then the floodgates broke. “I just, I want to experience it the only way I can. It hurts for real, and it’s not that I don’t like it when you bottom, Dean. I love when you bottom, I really do. You’re so beautiful and tight and perfect and everything I ever wanted, but knowing that it is something I can’t do is only making me want it more. I see how your skin gets covered with goosebumps and your toes curl when I fuck you just right, and I want to know what it’s like to have you topping me. I want—I want you to fuck me, Dean. At least, you know, pretend to.”

Dean had originally thought he would need a little time, a little build-up before he was fully hard for this particular occasion, after the whole heart-wrenching family moment that Castiel had described to him; but hearing Cas say that he wanted Dean to fuck him, hell that he’d _thought about it often_ , that was it for him. His cock was fattening in his jeans, pressing more insistently against the zipper with each passing second.

“Jesus, Cas,” he groaned. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you like this.”

“I want everything, Dean,” Cas whispered. “Not just, you know…”

Dean hummed in understanding. He knew what Castiel wanted. He didn’t just want Dean to talk about shoving his cock inside of him. Castiel wanted to be taken care of like he took care of Dean each time. He wanted the teasing kisses, the slide of fingers inside of him, and the slow build of stretching before the final glide home.

“You laying down, baby?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Clothes?”

“I-I am only wearing boxers right now. I’ve been undressing while we talked.”

Dean smirked. For all of his shyness, Cas was definitely frisky behind closed doors. “That’s good, Cas. Can you put me on speaker?”

Castiel shuffled around on the other end for a moment. “Done.”

Dean slid his shirt off and continued the task of removing his belt. “Okay, baby, your cock nice and hard?” Castiel gave a slight murmur of assent. “Good. Gotta open you up, sweetheart, but I need to make sure you’re nice and relaxed first. Slide those boxers off real slow.”

Dean listened to the rustle of fabric over the phone line. As Castiel was obeying his order, Dean threw his belt to the side and tore open his jeans, shoving them halfway down his thighs and thanking every deity out there that his door had a lock.

“I’m…uh, they’re off,” Castiel whispered in a shaky voice.

“Okay, I need you to take two fingers for me, put them in your mouth and get them nice and wet.” He knew Castiel would enjoy this part. He had, and refused to admit to, a slight oral fixation when it came to sex. He loved to have something in his mouth; Dean’s cock especially, but often times while Dean had Cas’ cock in his mouth, Cas would grasp desperately at Dean’s hands and suck his fingers into his mouth with a look of pure bliss on his face.

He heard quiet suckling sounds over the phone that was pressed against his ear. He couldn’t be on speaker like Cas with a house full of people, but Cas was going to need both hands for what Dean had planned for him.

“What now, Dean?” Castiel asked, his voice already growing thick with anticipation.

“I know how you like to use your mouth on me when you open me up. I’d do it too. I’d suck on the head of your cock and make you feel good, nice and pliant for me. Do it for me, Cas, rub your fingers around the head of your cock.”

Castiel’s soft moans suggested that he was doing as Dean told him, brushing fingers over the slit and the sensitive bundle beneath the head. “Love your mouth, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

“Wet them again, baby. Wet your fingers and play with the head, use your other hand to stroke yourself just like I do when I can’t fit all of you in my mouth.”

There were sounds of skin slapping quietly over the line, mingled with tiny whimpers from Castiel. Dean gripped himself through his boxer briefs, planning his next words while Castiel slowly toyed with himself.

“Feel good, baby?” Dean asked. Castiel choked out a broken _yes_ , so Dean continued. “Good, Cas. I’d keep my hand on your cock, stroking nice and slow. It feels good, but it’s not enough, right? Suck those fingers back in your mouth again, sweetheart, then I want you to reach back, okay? Be real gentle. Rub those fingers nice and slow around your perfect little hole. Just the outside.”

“God, yes, Dean,” Castiel groaned.

“Feel that, baby? That’s my tongue opening you up, getting you ready for my cock.”

Castiel let out a surprised gasp and Dean grinned to himself. He finally lowered the band of his boxer briefs, settling it just below his balls, and traced his fingers slowly up and down his own length.

“Keep rubbing those fingers around, Cas. Keep ‘em going while I open you up, okay?”

“Nnggh—yes, okay.”

“I’d work one finger in you first, let you get used to it. Gonna take a while cause you’re so tight, huh baby? Still a virgin that way. Takes my tongue and my finger to open you up enough for two. Love the little sounds you make, Cas, so much. I’d get my lips back around your cock now that I’ve got two fingers in you. You open up so good for me, sweetheart. So good.”

Castiel’s breathing was heavy over the phone. “More, Dean, please.”

Dean chuckled. “Bet you could take a third in no time. Would love to watch your body swallow my fingers. Make you scream and beg when I hit your sweet spot, gonna feel it everywhere. Think you’re ready for my cock, Cas?”

“Yes, ready. So ready,” Cas panted, the sound of his hand flying up and down over his cock still present in the background.

Dean grabbed his own cock, wasting no time in setting a punishing rhythm to chase his own orgasm. He could tell by the hitching in Cas’ breath that he was close already and he didn’t want to be far behind.

“Gonna kneel between your legs, Cas. Grab your hips and lift your legs around my waist, let my cock sink into you inch by inch while I watch your face. I wanna see everything that crosses your face when you take my cock for the first time, baby. Wanna see you bite at your pretty lips, wanna see your eyes open wide.”

Castiel whimpered on the other end. “Fuck me, Dean. Come on.”

“Come on, baby, say please,” Dean teased.

Cas growled. “Please, damn you.”

“Good boy, Cas. So good for me. Gonna grab you by your hips and slam my cock up into you. Want you to tell me how it feels, Cas. Tell me how much you love getting fucked.”

Castiel let out a string of garbled curses before answering. “God, Dean, so good. Feels so good, want it hard. Want you to put finger shaped bruises on me where you hold me down and just fuck me—“

The last word was tapered off into a moan as Castiel undoubtedly reached his climax. Dean heard bedsprings bounce and a few short gasps for air before Castiel’s voice came back over the phone.

“So good, Dean, so good.”

Dean’s hand was still moving quickly across his cock, twisting his wrist this way and that every few moments to reach his own end. “Did so well, Cas. So hot.”

Cas murmured some nonsensical sounds into the phone. “Come on, Dean. Want you to come too. Fucked me so good, want to make you feel good too. Come on, come inside me.”

And that’s all she wrote. Dean’s orgasm was ripped out of him, a surprised yelp pulling itself from his lungs as he shot over his own abdomen and chest, a stray drop going so far as to hit him in the chin.

“Jesus fuck, Cas, you…you are something else,” he said when he came down from his immense high moments later.

Castiel hummed in response. “I really do miss you, Dean.”

“Yeah, baby, I miss you too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thanks to tumblr user [Awkward-Sheep](http://www.awkward-sheep.tumblr.com).
> 
> for Last Friday Night's very first piece of
> 
> [Fanart](http://ohshit-demons.tumblr.com/post/55754763547/awkward-sheep-for-ohshit-demons-so-she-can-feel).
> 
> , based on the silly story about Dean's childhood from Chapter 18! If you're not following her on tumblr, I highly suggest you do because she's wonderful!


	26. Chapter 26

Christmas in the Novak household passed with minimal confrontation in comparison to the night before. Castiel and his siblings awoke to their mother’s homemade waffles with fruit and they finished them in record time in order to open presents. Both Castiel and Michael were too old to get really excited over Christmas presents, but their enthusiasm had been held up throughout the years by Claire’s lit up face and high pitched squeals of delight as she tore through the presents her parents and brothers bought for her. The Novaks were well-off enough that even well into adulthood, Michael and Castiel were both given mountains of presents at Christmas, just as Claire was. She was drowning in a sea of Barbies, dollhouses, pink dresses, and glitter when their parents presented the boys with their gifts. Michael’s presents mainly consisted of appliances and decorations for the new apartment he was moving into back in California, plus a few hundred dollars’ worth of IKEA gift cards for him to utilize to his own liking. Castiel’s mother had bought him clothes, a pile of new books, new accessories for his dorm room, and a long, tan trenchcoat that was surprisingly warm to wear. His father, however, presented him with a brand new Macbook, saying that it was best to have a newly made computer for school and his current laptop was looking a little worse for the wear.

The three of them thanked their parents for the great presents and they were in the middle of collecting the balled up wrapping paper, when the front door opened and their grandfather strode in without bothering to knock, like always. He was carrying three simple black gift bags, which was odd because he was never one to give Christmas presents. He felt that the holidays were to be celebrated by worshipping the Lord and praising his existence, not by giving materialistic presents and fawning over a pagan saint in a fluffy red suit. One of the reasons Castiel had such disdain for his grandfather was because of his unbelievable hypocrisy. He preached to their family the downfall of spoiling their children and allowing them to be greedy by buying them unnecessary gifts; And yet, Zachariah lived alone in a three story house, with a personal staff of 34 and there were no clothes in his wardrobe that were not specifically tailored for him by a brand name designer. Castiel was not even entirely sure what all 34 members of Zachariah’s staff were even _doing_ in his house.

“Good morning, family,” Zachariah greeted. Everyone mumbled their hellos to him except Castiel, and so Zachariah narrowed his eyes at him. “I trust that some of us are feeling less blasphemous than they were last night?”

Castiel just looked away, staying silent.

Zachariah stepped further into the room, handing each of the Novak children a gift bag. “I have decided that these, if any, would be an appropriate gift for the holidays. I hope the three of you use them well. Lord knows you could use it. I do have work to do today, so I will not be staying, but I will see all of you at Christmas Mass tonight.”

Castiel’s parents smiled and nodded their goodbyes while Claire and Michael gave him short waves. Zachariah gave an unmoving Castiel one last sour look before leaving through the front door. Claire was the first to open her gift, finding inside a book covered in a thick, pink leather cover with a snap on the front to keep the book safely closed. She opened the snap and cracked the book to find that it was The Holy Bible. She deflated slightly, wondering aloud why Grandpa Zachariah had gotten her a Bible when she already had her Children’s Bible for Sunday Church safely tucked away in her bookshelf. Michael reached inside his bag next, finding the same thing, but his was bound in black leather, with a strip of elastic that snapped around the front to keep it closed. It looked exactly like the copy that Zachariah carried around with him on a daily basis. Castiel knew his gift would be a Bible as well, so he reached in the bag to grab at it, pulling it out to see that his was a snap-shut book like Claire’s, but instead of pink it was  a deep, hunter green. There were strips of paper sticking out from the inside of the pages, unlike both of his siblings, so he opened the snap to retrieve them. Inside the first pages of the book, Zachariah had stuck in multiple brochures for a church in Kansas City that hosted a ‘straight camp’ program for adults that were burdened with homosexuality. Castiel could feel his face growing hot and red with rage as he tossed both the Bible and the brochures to the floor. He continued collecting the gift wrapping littered around the family room, intent on pretending Zachariah had never even been there that morning. Michael was the first to reach for the brochures, his curiosity finally winning out over the awkwardness of the situation, and he huffed out a disbelieving laugh when he read the cover. He handed them over to their mother, and their father peered over her shoulder to look as well. Once they realized exactly what the brochures were for, Castiel’s father just sighed, tore them in half, and tossed them in the same bag that Castiel was using to clean up the trash.

Their mother excused herself to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast, taking Claire along with her to help and Michael made short work of taking his new things to his old bedroom. Castiel followed him with an armful of gifts, dumping them on his bed and reaching for his phone. He needed to hear Dean’s voice again. Just as he was about to hit the call button, his father poked his head in the door.

“May I speak to you?” He asked.

Castiel nodded and motioned for him to come in.

His father sat on the bed beside him and rubbed a hand over his face. “There is nothing wrong with you, Castiel.”

“I know that.”

His father smiled sadly. “I know you know. But I want you to know that I know that too. And so does your mother, and Michael, and Claire. My father is…my father is set in his ways, and I am sorry for how he’s treated you.”

Castiel scoffed lightly. “Then why do you allow him to do so every year? Why is it always me?”

His father grasped lightly at the back of Castiel’s neck, tentative like he was afraid of being shaken off. “I know I’ve been passive about it, and I wish I had a better excuse for it, but the only reasoning I have is that he’s my father. It isn’t just you, son. I’m forty-three years old and he still makes me feel like a little boy. Your mother and I were so young when we got married, just out of high school, and she got pregnant with your brother within weeks of our wedding. She and I stayed celibate until our wedding night, and that’s the God’s honest truth, but every day of her pregnancy he would swear up and down that we married when we did because I got her pregnant before our wedding night. He called us sinners and liars for months, and after Michael was born, my father wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t even meet him until he was almost a year old, when he finally decided that Michael’s birth date coincided well enough with a date of conception that was _after_ our wedding day. And Claire, you don’t see it because you’re off at school most of the year, but my father has it out for my little girl. Tells me she’s intellectually challenged.”

Castiel frowns. “He what?”

His father nodded, a sad look on his face. “You and Michael started talking like adults when you were barely six years old. You two were always so formal and polite. Claire is, well, Claire is Claire. She’s exuberant and excitable. She grew up acting differently than the two of you, and somehow your grandfather thinks that she’s…I don’t know, stupid. She’s top of her class and she won the spelling bee last Spring; But to him, because she would rather say “Hey, Papa” than “Hello, Grandfather”, he thinks she’s simpleminded.”

Now Castiel was angry, not just for himself, but for his siblings. “You need to stand up for your family.”

His father’s face schooled into a pained expression. “I know I do, Castiel. Every time that I try to talk to him about it, he sidelines me with some ‘Honor thy Father’ scripture and I feel so guilty. I speak to people about the same God that he does and five minutes with him makes me feel like he’s derailed everything I know about my faith.”

Castiel just stood, grabbing his clothes for the day and his toiletry bag, and headed for the door to his room. Before leaving, he looked back at his father, sitting dejected on the bed with his head bowed down. “If anything, I think God would want you to honor a Father that honored you as well.”

Without another word, and without waiting for a response, Castiel went to shower and prepare for the day. When he came back to his bedroom, his father was gone and so he started into one of his new books. He loved his father, but he refused to condone his cowardice. Days passed at the Novak house with Castiel hardly speaking to any of his family at all, not including Claire. He’d eat breakfast with her in the morning, watch one of her television shows with her and then take his sketchpad and a book to the local coffee shop to spend a few hours alone. He came back home for dinner with his family, but he did not speak unless he was asked a question directly, and even those were few and far between.

On December 30th, the night before the Novak’s New Year Party, Michael finally approached him. He had knocked on Castiel’s door after dinner, coming in and shutting the door behind him when he was granted entrance.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you all week, Castiel.”

Castiel set his book down. “So, speak.”

Michael sat on the edge of his brother’s bed and sighed. “I just….Dean Winchester, really?”

Castiel frowned at him. “Not you too. Michael you’ve known for years about my sexuali—“

Michael put a hand up to stop him. “No, Castiel, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not here to lecture you on your sexuality, just your choice.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Dean Winchester, Castiel. The same Dean from the races? Are you certain he’s a good match for you?” Michael asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Michael gave him a knowing look. “I was a driver once, Castiel. I know how they act. Luckily, I grew up, but I still speak to some of the drivers I used to race against and they are permanently stuck at a mental age of eighteen.”

“Dean is very mature, I can assure you. He’s never done wrong by me before.” Castiel leaned against his headboard, with his knees up and his arms surrounding them. “You don’t know Dean like I do.”

“I know enough. You didn’t pay attention back when Dean first started racing because you were too busy hiding from the crowd. When he won, girls threw themselves at him left and right.”

Castiel scoffed. “Dean doesn’t even like girls, Michael. Besides, I was his first—uh, nevermind.” Castiel blushed at the almost-admission.

Michael’s expression softened into one of sympathy and he sighed. “Virginity is easy to fake, Castiel. Pretend to fumble around, a few nervous laughs, and no one ever thinks twice. I know, because I used to do it with girls that I dated all the time. Do you know how many girls think they took my virginity?”

“I don’t care,” Castiel ground out. “Dean isn’t you, and he isn’t a liar. I think you should leave now, Michael.”

His brother just gave him one last long stare before shaking his head and standing. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Castiel.”

Castiel just stared him down until he exited the bedroom. When Michael was gone, he hefted himself off the bed so he could lock the door behind him. Vacations from school were supposed to be relaxing, but this holiday was winding Castiel into a tight coil. There was no way he would last another week here after the New Year’s party. He was a ball of nervous energy and the only thing that could calm him down was Dean, but he was almost afraid to text his boyfriend. After he’d told Dean about the whole straight camp fiasco, he’d spent three hours on the phone trying to convince Dean not to drive all the way to Overland Park and bury his fist in Zachariah’s face. It was an overly emotional conversation, both angry and comforting, that led to a second night of aggressive phone sex; this time via text since everyone in Castiel’s family was home. Castiel didn’t actually regret it at all.

**_[Is it still acceptable for me to spend part of winter break at your family’s home?]_ **

**[Dean: Of course it is. My mom has been ranting and raving about when she gets to see you again. Sammy too.]**

**_[Good. I am not entirely certain that I’d survive another week at my house.]_ **

**[Dean: What happened? Do you need to come tonight?]**

**_[No, it was nothing. I am going to attend the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night, and then I will arrive at your house the evening of the first.]_ **

**[Dean: Cas, tell me what happened.]**

**_[It was just Michael being unsupportive.]_ **

**[Dean: Seriously? I swear I am gonna end up having to brain the whole lot of em.]**

**_[It was nothing homophobic like my grandfather, Dean, I promise. Michael was just warning me off…you.]_ **

**[Dean: ME? Why me?!]**

**_[He seems to think that drag racers are a particular breed of whores that never grow up and that you are a toxic person to enter into a relationship with.]_ **

**[Dean: Mikey never even really knew me other than as a driver. I don’t understand…]**

**_[I know, Dean. As I said, he was just being unsupportive. He believes that since he was sexually promiscuous when he raced, that you are as well. He told me that he witnessed multiple girls “throwing themselves at you” as he put it.]_ **

**[Dean: Well yeah. That kind of thing came with races, just like it comes with contact sports. But in case he didn’t get the memo, I am not really into girls. I rejected every single one of them until they just stopped all together. And I was a virgin when we met.]**

**_[I know. I accidentally let the knowledge of our shared loss of virginity slip during the argument.]_ **

**[Dean: I bet he’s just jealous ;)]**

**_[He actually believes that you were lying about being a virgin.]_ **

**[Dean: You know I would never lie to you right?]**

**_[I know. I miss you.]_ **

**[Dean: I miss you too :)]**

He wanted to send one last text to Dean before finally going to sleep. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, but just like always, he stopped himself. His fingers hovered over the buttons for several seconds before he finally just set his alarm and shut his phone. Two months they had been together, only two months. It was just too soon. Too much, too soon…


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> Slight non-con in this chapter. Like, very brief and mild and not graphic or anything, but I'm warning nonetheless.

On the night of the party, the Sheraton ballroom was more beautiful than ever. Each year the décor far surpassed the previous years, finding new ways to impress the guests; donors and buyers alike. The enormous chandelier in the center of the ceiling was adorned with strings upon strings of teardrop-shaped gems, shooting sparkling prisms of golden light all across the room. Six pale yellow, glittering streamers were attached symmetrically to the base of the chandelier, each of them folded into waves that stretched across the expanse of the ceiling until they hit the outer walls of the ballroom. Several nets were held up against the ceiling, trapping red and gold balloons that were to be released when the ball dropped. The space itself was beautiful even before the added festive decorations. The walls were a light cream color with gold-plated paneling and the plush carpet was a vibrant, apple red with golden paisley designs speckled across the floor.

On the far left side of the room, a large buffet table was laid out. Plates and plates of food were set atop a creamy, off-white cotton tablecloth; showcasing such things as stuffed portobello mushrooms, spinach and ricotta tarts, wild rice pilaf, and grilled polenta squares. Part of the table housed at least fifteen different varieties of sushi and an enormous selection of foreign cheeses. Castiel had always made sure to avoid that side of the table. The attention-grabber from the buffet table, same as every year, was the huge, golden fountain located at the center of the table that poured a continuous stream of rich, warm chocolate through its tubes. At the base of the fountain, artfully arranged platters of fruit were side-by-side with baskets of fresh-baked pretzels, wafers, and pound cake from a local bakery. Tall, cylindrical baskets full of disposable skewers were placed behind each plate. There were forty-five tables throughout the room, each seating up to ten people, and they were all laid out with tablecloths that were the same creamy color as the one covering the buffet table. Each table’s centerpiece was different than the next. They all housed different kinds of fresh-cut flowers in a hand-blown glass vase, made by one of the artists, Balthazar Augustin IV, who sells his work at the charity auction. Each year, several of his paintings that are up for sale are also showcased on the walls of the ballroom as well. This year, the paintings were mostly of human hands in various religious poses; one holding a rosary, another nailed to a cross.

At the head of the room, directly across from the entrance, was a small stage constructed of golden walnut wood. There was a three-step staircase leading up, with a small podium near the edge where the charity auctioneer would take his place when the bidding began. Behind the podium was a portable computerized DJ booth, and at the back of the stage was a red and gold embroidered curtain that, when opened, lead back to a small area where the cords and bulk equipment for the booth were set up. The curtain stayed closed during the event to hide the mess of electronic gear from the guests. There was a door in this area that led out to one of the meeting room hallways of the hotel, but only hotel staff or auction volunteers were allowed to use it. On each side of the stage, mounted on the wall, there were huge flatscreen televisions that remained off throughout the duration of the party, up until minutes before the Times Square ball drop. To the left of one of the flatscreens, there was a small hallway that led to an exit door to an alley behind the hotel.

Castiel had gotten to the ballroom long before the guests began to arrive, just as he had every year. The Novak family, being the hosts, were sure to greet each of their three hundred or more guests as they arrived, and gave plenty of interviews to the invited journalists about the charities that they were supporting that night. He was wearing the only suit he owned, which was a little snug because he hadn’t bothered to buy a new one for the last two years and his young adult body was still growing, slowly but surely. The black slacks fit him fine around his hips, and the length was perfect, but they seemed to hug his groin and backside a bit more tightly than they had the previous year. The jacket, however, was an even smaller fit. He could just barely get the buttons on the dark suit jacket closed around his waist, and as he was dressing in his room, he marveled at how much more bulky he’d become since the year before. All of his morning runs were doing wonders for his body. He paired the suit with a simple crisp, white button down and a black silk tie. Instead of combing his hair to the side like he had every year since he could remember, he waited until it was dry after his shower and ran both of his hands roughly through the mess of dark locks, giving him a rough, bed-headed look. When he arrived at the Sheraton, both of his parents looked at his hairstyle with mild confusion, but chose to say nothing. Michael snorted at him and rolled his eyes and Claire giggled at him, telling him that he looked like he got in a fight with a lawnmower. Unkempt hair wasn’t a rebellion worthy of revolution by any standards, but it was more than enough to appease Castiel when he saw the angry glare that Zachariah directed at him when he first spotted him across the room.

As guests began to pour in, Castiel stood by his parents for a few newspaper photos before loping off to the other side of the room to find their table. He received plenty of polite waves from longstanding friends of his parents and buyers that he recognized from each year’s auction. It was about an hour into the party when Zachariah finally approached him, and the DJ was just announcing a song dedicated to all of the happy couples in the audience.

As the beginnings of Elvis Presley’s “I can’t help falling in love with you” flooded through the surround sound, Zachariah made his way to where Castiel was sitting, half-dragging a pretty redheaded girl along with him. She was much shorter than Castiel, probably about a year his junior, and absolutely tiny compared to Zachariah. His meaty, old fingers nearly closed completely around her upper arm where he’d grabbed her to lead her toward the other side of the room. She was wearing a sleeveless, peach colored dress that stopped at her knees, with tiny pearly white beads embroidered in intricate designs and soft fringe shimmying around the bottom hem as she walked. Her shoes, however, were…unorthodox. Instead of heels or dressy flats, she wore a pair of white Doc Marten boots. As they came closer, Castiel could see from the color of her eyebrows that she was a natural redhead, but the hair on her head was darkened by boxed dye to a bright fire engine red. Zachariah must have been getting desperate if he was trying to force Castiel upon a girl who was less than _immaculately_ dressed.

“Castiel, I would like you to meet Charlene Bradbury. Her grandfather was an old colleague of mine from my days at Harvard and her parents are generous donors to the auction each year. I think it would be polite of you to ask her for a dance.”

Charlene just looked nervously from Zachariah to Castiel, “Th-that’s not really necessary, sir. I just—“

“Nonsense,” Zachariah interrupted, giving her a small shove in Castiel’s direction. He gave Castiel a threatening look, gestured for him to stand up, and then walked away, leaving the fumbling redhead standing awkwardly in front of him.

Castiel stood up and gave her a half-smile. “Hello, Charlene.”

She grimaced. “Please, call me Charlie. You don’t, you know, have to dance with me.”

“I do, actually. If we don’t dance, he will come back. He’s done it before.” Castiel gave a small shrug and held a hand out to her.

Charlie looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it and allowing herself to be led out to the dancefloor. Charlie was nice enough already, he thought. Unlike all of the other girls who he’d been forced to dance with, Charlie was seemingly just as uncomfortable with the idea as he was. While some of the other girls had been shy, they were still very on board with the idea of dancing with the youngest Novak boy. Charlie was just looking nervously from the left to the right, like she wasn’t sure where to settle her sights. As comforting as it was to know that he wasn’t the only one that felt ill at ease, he was still tinged with sadness. Each year, the dances he was forced into were not painful because while he was very, very not straight, he was also single and had no one to miss. This party was different, though, because he couldn’t help but think about how badly he wished he were dancing with Dean instead. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to the party at Benny’s frathouse, and how he had drunkenly made Dean dance with him to bad pop music. He didn’t learn until later on that Dean’s first true love was classic rock and that he couldn’t stand pop music, but he’d danced with him anyway; and to Katy Perry, no less. His face must have been betraying his utter discomfort, because a few seconds later Charlie finally spoke up.

 “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and he saw that she was looking at him with wide, questioning eyes. He vaguely registered that the song had changed as well. “I-I’m sorry?”

“You just, uh, look like you’re a million miles away there,” she responded.

Castiel huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yes, I tend to hide in my own head in strenuous circumstances.”

Charlie backed up a few inches from him, but kept within a dancing stance. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, dude.”

“It is not you, I can assure you. It’s not that you aren’t lovely and all, it’s just that you’re not really…my type,” he finished lamely.

Charlie immediately relaxed, a slow grin spreading over her face. “So,” she started. “Who is he?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “W-what? How did you--?”

“Wanna know a secret?” She asked, leaning in closer to him. He nodded. “You’re not really my type either, even though you look totally bangin’ in that suit. It’s nice and snug in all the right places.”

Castiel first looked down at his suit and then back to Charlie, his face twisted in confusion.

She took one hand off of his shoulder and pointed across the room. “See those people over there?” She asked. She was pointing to a middle-aged couple, the woman a redhead and the man a brunette. They were standing next to another young girl, about Charlie’s age, who was staring unblinkingly at Castiel and Charlie. She was wearing a tan, sleeveless lace dress with a gold satin sash around the middle.

“Your family?” He asked.

Charlie nodded. “My parents and my best friend, Alannah.”

“It must be nice having someone to keep you company at this thing. I don’t have any friends close enough to bring with me, certainly none close enough to call my best friend. I wanted to bring my boyfriend tonight, but my grandfather…”

“Total homophobe?” she guessed sympathetically.

Castiel nodded. “He believes I’m diseased. He actually gave me straight-camp brochures for Christmas.”

“What about your parents?”

“They are supportive, as long as my grandfather isn’t around. When he’s in the room, though, they all become his perfect little soldiers. No fighting or disagreeing, even when they know they should.”

Charlie gave him a rueful smile. “I haven’t told my parents yet. I know they’re religious but they’ve never been intolerant. I mean, Alannah and I spend so much time together that you’d think they’d have figured it out by now. I love my parents and I know they love me, but I’m terrified of coming out to them.”

Realization dawned over Castiel just then. “Oh, Alannah is your…? I thought you said she was your best friend?”

“She is,” Charlie said with a grin. She glanced over at Alannah and gave her a small tender small, which the blonde reciprocated immediately. “She’s my best friend and, you’re the first to know this, my fiancée. The person you love should be your best friend, don’t you think?”

Castiel grinned back at her, “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Once the second song was over, Charlie took Castiel’s arm and dragged him across the room to properly meet Alannah. They soon commandeered the same table that Castiel had been sitting at earlier in the day, and Charlie rummaged through her giant messenger bag to produce a deck of cards. The party was in full swing around them, waiters and waitresses in pressed white shirts serving champagne to the dancing adults, and then the auction came and went with all three of them hardly noticing. Guests were buying pieces of art and vacation packages, the money they bid with being given to this year’s chosen charities. They’d laughed their way through six games of Rummy, three rounds of War, and Charlie had tried and failed miserably at teaching Castiel to play Poker. In the span of two hours, Castiel had found out that Charlie was currently going to ITT Tech in Overland Park and she was a genius with a computer, majoring in cybersecurity and spending a lot of her free time gaming and hacking. Alannah was attending the local community college and trying to get into their Nursing program. Once they had both graduated from college, their plan was to move to California and get married. Alannah’s parents knew about their relationship and they were fully supportive, but they didn’t condone hiding it from Charlie’s mother and father. Both girls were nineteen, however, and Alannah’s parents decided that, as adults, it was their choice to make. Castiel liked her parents already.

Soon enough, all of the guests were adorned with party hats and cheap, plastic horns, and making their way to the center of the room where the flatscreens had just been turned on. People were watching with rapt attention as Ryan Seacrest and Jenny McCarthy spoke to people in the crowd before the countdown. Alannah ran off, scrambling to get all three of them a cheesy New Year’s hat before the ball dropped. When the countdown got to 20 seconds, they stood and joined the rest of the crowd; something Castiel had never willingly done. Charlie was clutching her phone in one hand and Castiel’s bicep in the other, and Alannah was on the other side of him bouncing where she stood. They chanted out the remaining ten seconds of the countdown together, and when the clock struck twelve, both Charlie and Alannah kissed him. He had one girl pressed against each cheek, and he heard the click of a camera as Charlie snapped a photo of the three of them with her phone. Balloons rained down from the ceiling, horns were blaring, and confetti was flying all over the place. For once, Castiel was actually happy to be there. Charlie showed him the photo she’d taken and he couldn’t help but laugh. His face was scrunched up, mid-laugh, with the green cardboard hat sliding halfway off his head. Both of the girls’ lips were puckered out comically against his cheeks and Charlie was giving a thumbs up. His laughter was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. When he pulled out his phone, he saw that he had a media message from Dean. It was probably just a picture of his family celebrating the New Year, and it gave him the idea to have Charlie text him the photo he’d taken of them so he could send it to Dean. When he opened the file though, it wasn’t a picture but a video. He excused himself to the restroom so he could hear it over all of the commotion, telling Charlie and Alannah that he’d be back soon. When he got into the men’s room it was empty, so he leaned up against the sink counter and pushed play.

Dean’s face immediately came up on the screen and it looked like he was standing in front of the stove in his mother’s kitchen. There were plates full of cookies and brownies behind him and a quiet hum of music in the background. He angled the phone around until he was satisfied and then grinned into the camera. “Hey, Cas. It’s, uh, it’s like sixty seconds til the ball drops and I just wanted to tell you that I miss you and I’m sorry we couldn’t be together tonight. I can’t wait to see—“

“Is that Cas?!” Sam’s voice interrupted from somewhere out of view.

Dean looked off to the side, likely at Sam and shook his head. “Nah, I’m making him a video. Get outta here.”

After a few seconds, the camera was jostled around and Sam’s face came into view. He waved into the camera and gave a small grin. “Happy New Year, Cas!”

Dean flapped his free hand at Sam’s face to push him away, but then a third face joined in the picture. It was Mary. She peeked over Dean’s shoulder and gave a tiny wave and a smile. “Hello Castiel, I hope you had a good Christmas. We’ll see you soon!”

Dean sighed. “Okay, Partridge Family, private video.” There were quiet chuckles in the background as the others retreated and then Dean was standing alone in the kitchen again. “Sorry about that. I guess I already said it, but I do miss you. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

 _“Fifteen seconds, Dean!”_ Came Sam’s voice from the other room.

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand and shifted his eyes away from the camera, like he was growing shy about something.

“Can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he said as the countdown blared on behind him.

10.

9.

8.

7.

“This might be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever done, so don’t judge me, okay?”

4.

3.

2.

1.

When the uproar of music and cheers flooded the speakers, Dean just leaned his face in and pressed his lips against the camera, blacking out the picture for a few seconds before pulling away. There was a faint blush in his cheeks and a dopey grin on his face. “So, uh, Happy New Year, Cas.”

The screen went blank and Castiel couldn’t help the massive smile that broke out across his face. He trailed his fingertips over the screen of his phone where Dean’s face had just been and felt his heart jackhammering in his ribcage. He watched the video again twice before opening up his phone’s own video camera and pointing it at his face. He said hello to Dean, and to his family, and then talked a bit about the party, even turning the phone around to get in a nice, long mirror shot of his outfit so he could show Dean how ridiculous he had to look. He turned the camera back to his face again, fully intending on telling Dean that he missed him too, missed him like fucking crazy, but before he could continue he heard the bathroom door bang open.

“Hello Castiel,” said a familiar, but unwelcome voice.

Castiel whipped around to see Crowley standing in the doorway with a smirk, his fingers coming up to flick the lock on the door. His eyes widened and he gripped the phone in his hand tightly. “W-what are you doing here?”

Crowley started taking leisurely steps toward him. “My parents made a donation to the charity, of course. They bought one of those God awful paintings, the one with the crucified hand. Get it, God awful?”

“It was Jesus Christ on the cross, not God, you absolute moron,” Castiel replied, making to shove his way past Crowley and out the door.

But Crowley grabbed the back of his jacket with both hands and shoved Castiel roughly up against the sink. The phone dropped from his hand and onto the counter and Crowley crowded himself up against Castiel, his face only inches away. “You wouldn’t believe the luck I’ve had lately,” he growled. “Went to the hospital after your little charade, thinking my whole hand was broken but you only managed to break one finger. I was angry, boy, so angry, because I didn’t even know your name so I couldn’t fucking find you. But then, in the waiting room at the hospital, I picked up a newspaper and there you were on the front page. It seems your family’s little charity party is popular statewide, led me right to you. And you led me right to him. All I had was your boyfriend’s first name until I found one Mr. Castiel Novak on facebook. In a relationship with Dean Winchester.”

“Don’t you dare bring Dean into this. You’re overreacting like a child because he wouldn’t let you race If anyone here is to blame for how far this has gone, it’s you!” Castiel spat at him, his face going red with anger and his nostrils flaring out.

Crowley’s eyes darkened. “Yes, well, word of advice; not a very good idea to say no to someone who is used to always getting what they want. I have to say, though, you are quite a pretty thing.”

Castiel pushed Crowley off of him and straightened his jacket. “Leave me alone, you creep.”

Crowley gave him a smug smile. “I have a proposition for you. I was never really into men before, but I think this could work out in your favor and I’m feeling generous. Quick little romp in the bathroom and I won’t give your boyfriend’s name to the police. They could match his tires to the tracks found on the racetrack and he could go to jail for a very long time; trespassing, drag racing, fleeing from the police. God only knows what they’d do to him in prison with lips like his.”

“Get out,” Castiel whispered threateningly. “You are a sick, sick bastard.”

Crowley just advanced, crowding him against the sink again. Castiel went to push him away, but bastard grabbed his wrist and slapped him across the face, disorienting him. While he was caught off guard, Crowley spun him around roughly and bent him over the bathroom counter. “One time and your stupid little boyfriend will be safe, Castiel.”

“No,” Castiel ground out, his face pressed against the counter. Crowley had one of his arms twisted behind his back, successfully pinning him to the counter. Castiel flailed and pushed and kicked his legs, but Crowley was much more bulky than he was, his heavier weight successfully stopping him from escaping. Crowley laughed, a low and evil sound, before using his free hand to grasp at Castiel’s waistband. The pants were snug, but he was not wearing a belt so eventually, after some harsh pulling on Crowley’s end, they started slipping down his hips centimeter by centimeter. Hot tears were falling from Castiel’s eyes as he squirmed, staining his cheeks and leaving a puddle on the counter below his face. When his shirt came untucked, Crowley rucked it up, exposing the small of his back and he scratched his nails lightly across Castiel’s skin. As he went to push Castiel’s shirt up higher, he readjusted his hold on the other arm, giving Castiel just the right amount of give to slip out of his grip and snap himself upward. The back of his skull connected with Crowley’s face and he heard a sharp grunt from behind him. Pain lanced through the back of his head and he whipped around, hands up and ready to defend himself, to see Crowley with a split lip and a look of pure hatred on his face.

Crowley dabbed at the blood on his lip before spitting drops of red off to the side. “Bad idea, cretin. I thought I already warned you that it was dangerous not to give in to someone who always gets what they want.”

Castiel just stood there, red-faced and bleary eyed but holding his ground.

“Say goodbye to your boyfriend. He’ll be spending the next few years as a prison bitch.” Crowley threatened before unlocking the door and leaving.

As soon as he was alone in the bathroom, Castiel crumpled. His legs gave in and he slid to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest and burying his face in his hands. He cried, a pathetic mix of anger and sadness, until the sobs wracking his body made him hyperventilate. He hadn’t really gotten close at all, not even managing to completely remove any clothes, but Crowley had almost…And Dean? Dean was going to be in so much trouble. He had to call Dean, had to warn him. And then it hit him.

The phone.

Castiel’s phone was recording a video for Dean when Crowley came into the bathroom. He scrambled up off the floor, ignoring the way he swayed on his feet, and grabbed the cell phone. He turned it in his hands and saw that it had stopped recording after the video time limit was reached. He scrolled through his gallery to find the pieces that _had_ been recorded, hoping that enough of the assault had been caught on film as proof. He watched the video, fresh tears spilling from his eyes when it started and he saw the fondness in his own eyes as he talked to Dean about the party. He heard Crowley’s voice on the recording, and soon after, the scuffle that jostled his phone from his grip. The camera was pointing right at where Castiel’s face lay planted on the counter, crying. With only thirty seconds left in the video, he was beginning to think that he’d missed Crowley’s face entirely, but it was when the other man had started trying to yank his pants down that he bent over and the video ended with a clear shot of Crowley’s face as he forcefully pinned Castiel down.

He wiped the stray tears from his face, willing himself to calm down, and walked quickly out of the bathroom. He didn’t know where to start. If he could just do something, maybe call the cops first and get Crowley arrested, maybe Dean would be okay. But, no, if he did that Crowley would definitely give the police Dean’s name.

“Castiel!” he heard, along with a pair of footsteps running toward him. His head snapped up and he saw Charlie and Alannah coming his way, both looking worried. “Oh my God, Castiel, were you crying? What’s wrong?”

He waved a hand dismissively and shook his head. “Just…nothing.”

Alannah wrapped her hands around Charlie’s forearm and gave him a disbelieving look. “Some dude with a bloody lip came into the party and you’d been gone for a long time so we thought that maybe….are you sure you’re okay?”

He started to nod, but ended up vigorously shaking his head. He slumped up against the wall and spilled the entire story to them out in the hall, starting from the very beginning when Crowley had showed up to the races in his stupid overdone car. “And I can’t tell the police that he tried to assault me because then Dean will go to jail and I just can’t do that to him. I want him to pay for what he did to Dean and what he _almost_ did to me, but there’s nothing that I can do.”

Alannah was holding his hand, near tears herself but Charlie’s mouth was set at a thin line, an angry redness blooming on her cheeks. She was pissed. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked back into the ballroom and emerged again a few minutes later with her messenger bag. She opened it up and pulled out a bulky tablet, turning the power on and quickly clicking a few buttons on the screen. “You said you had a video, right? Can you email it to me?”

Castiel nodded and dug his phone out. He pulled up the video and sent it to the email address that Charlie spouted off to him. In just a few seconds, she pushed more buttons on the screen and pulled the video up on her tablet. She paused it right at the end, when Crowley’s face was visible where he hovered over top of Castiel’s bent-over body. She then turned the screen of the tablet off and offered Castiel her hand, helping him to his feet.

“We need to find him and confront him about this. I still think the cops should get involved because he could have, you know, he could have really hurt you, but I get why you don’t want to call them. So, find him and show him this, and then tell him that if he says one word to anyone about Dean then I am going to make sure this video of him trying to sexually assault someone reaches every corner of the internet for everyone to see. The police, his parents, his friends, everyone. So, come on, let’s kick it in the ass.”

Castiel hugged her then, because if this worked then it would save Dean. She gave him a tight smile and both Alannah and Charlie led him back into the ballroom where the party was still in full swing, despite it being almost one in the morning. Some of the guests had gone home after the ball drop, but it wasn’t uncommon for people to stay until it was nearly light outside. The three of them walked inconspicuously around the party, trying to catch a glimpse of Crowley’s hulking figure and praying he hadn’t left yet. Castiel saw his grandfather once as they were walking and he took one look at Castiel, told him to tuck his shirt in because he looked like a hobo, and then walked away. Apparently, all it took to make Zachariah leave him alone for the most part was hanging out with more females. It took them about twenty minutes of searching, but finally Alannah tugged at Castiel’s sleeve and pointed in the direction of the stage. They looked over to see Crowley disappearing into the small hallway that led to the alley exit. The three of them walked as quickly and quietly as possible over to the exit, trying not to be noticed by other party guests. Because of the still-large crowd on the dancefloor, sneaking back into the hallway had turned out to be very, very easy. Before they stepped out of the door, Charlie turned her tablet back on and dug a can of pepper spray out of her bag.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at her. “You brought pepper spray to a charity auction?”

Charlie just shrugged. “They might be a bunch of Bible-thumpers, but have you heard all the stories in the news about priests and little kids? I wasn’t taking any chances.”

Castiel snorted and opened the door, peeking out to see exactly where Crowley was. He didn’t see him right away, but he heard his voice carrying from around the corner where the alley led to the parking lot. Crowley was calling for a cab home. Castiel briefly wondered why he’d be calling for a cab when he had a car of his own, but Crowley did say that he had come with his parents. He was likely trying to leave earlier than they wanted. Castiel and the girls tip-toed their way down the alley and he waved the girls back, motioning for them to stay hidden for the moment. He stepped around the corner to see Crowley leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He raised an eyebrow at Castiel when he saw him and took a long drag on his cigarette.

“That was a one-time offer, kid,” he said, smoke billowing from his still-swollen mouth. “Too late to regret your decision now.”

Castiel sneered at him. “I wouldn’t touch you if someone _paid me_. You are sickening human being, Crowley, and I came out here to give you one more chance to let it go.”

Crowley laughed. “If you’re trying to get me to let bygones be bygones out of the goodness of my heart, your tone is all wrong. You have no leverage, you idiot.”

“Actually, I do,” he responded. At that moment, Charlie and Alannah stepped out from around the corner, both glaring daggers at Crowley. Charlie was gripping her tablet in her hands and Alannah had the pepper spray held threateningly in front of her.

“Really?” Crowley asked with a quirked brow. “Your plan is to bring two little twigs with a can of pepper spray after me?”

“Shut your mouth,” Charlie snapped.

Castiel smiled. “Not exactly. However, the little twigs are definitely part of the plan. Make a move and that one,” he pointed at Alannah, “will spray your eyes til you’re blind. And Charlie, well, Charlie’s going to help me ruin you.”

Crowley laughed. “Oh, do tell.”

Charlie moved her fingers around the screen of her tablet as Castiel spoke, pulling up multiple videosharing sites and even the submission boxes of a few local news sites.

“I was recording a video for Dean when you walked into the bathroom. You knocked the phone out of my hand when you pushed me up against the sink, but it was still recording. Everything that you did to me is caught on tape, and everything you said can be heard clear as day.”

Crowley’s smile faltered. “You’re bluffing.”

Charlie turned her tablet around so Crowley could see and swiped her finger across the front to bring up the paused video with his face clearly showcased. She then slid the screen over to all of the sites with the video ready to be sent out and uploaded. His eyes widened and he exhaled loudly through his nose, nostrils flaring in irritation. “You son of a bitch.”

Castiel stared right into Crowley’s eyes, silently challenging him. “Charlie, how long will it take after you push that button for his face to be plastered all over the internet?”

“Eight seconds,” she replied with a tilt of her head. “Roughly. And you know, once something is on the internet, you can never take it back.”

Crowley turned his glare to her momentarily before fixing it back on Castiel. “Fine,” he ground out. “What do you want?”

Castiel stepped forward, crowding him against the wall. Crowley was slightly taller and much more bulky in weight, but he was slouched in defeat. Castiel’s confidence, thanks to Charlie and Alannah, made him seem miles taller than the other man. “You will leave Dean and I alone. Forever. If I see your face, if he sees you, if any cops come after him, anything; I will make sure that everyone you have ever met sees that video and knows what you are.”

Crowley glowered at him. “Fine,” he spat through clenched teeth. “You and your stupid boyfriend are safe. Now delete that video.”

Castiel shook his head. “Insurance.”

A flash of headlights alerted them that someone was pulling into the parking lot, probably Crowley’s cab, so Castiel, Alannah, and Charlie backed up and slowly made their way back through the alley and into the ballroom. When they reached the table they flopped down into their seats, letting out a collective sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Castiel said as he removed his jacket, slinging it over the edge of his seat. He then ran a hand through his hair, loosened his tie, and he rolled the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows. He was exhausted from the incredible amount of stress, but his adrenaline was spiked through the roof so he was practically vibrating in his seat. “I sort of feel like dancing, I’m so hyped up, but not to this horrible, slow waltz nonsense.” He said, indicating the leisurely instrumental song playing through the room. There was still a sizable crowd on the dancefloor, his parents included, but it was starting to thin out slowly.

 “I have an idea,” Charlie said, waving her tablet around.

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you do that?”

Charlie gave him a look, as if saying ‘oh please’, and started to press buttons on her tablet. “All I have to do is access the hotel’s Wi-Fi and find the DJ’s connection. Got it. He’s playing music from a selected playlist that’s hooked up to the surround sound in the room. Most hotel security systems, this one included, don’t just cover cameras. They cover everything from guest computers that are linked to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, the surround sound in rentable rooms, cameras, televisions, even the projectors that people use in the business suites. I’m just going to bring up my own playlist and once I kick him off of the network, I can hack into the hotel’s security system and link the surround sound to my tablet.”

Castiel watched, amazed, as Charlie’s fingers flew over the tablet, swiping and clicking on boxes of code that made no sense to him. Alannah just sat back with a smile, watching Charlie work, and each time Charlie would glance up and catch her eye, she’d smile too.

“So,” Charlie said, as she looked up at Castiel. “Your grandfather wants you to dance with girls, right?” Castiel nodded and Charlie gave a wicked grin. “How do you think he’d feel if you danced with two?”

She tapped a button on her tablet and slid it discreetly back into her messenger bag just as the music from the DJ’s computer died off. They looked up and saw the man running the computer furrow his brow and bend over to check the plugs and then disappear behind the curtain. All of the people on the dancefloor were looking around in confusion at the half-finished song, and then a loud cymbal started playing. Castiel caught sight of his father from across the room, whose face was scrunched up and peering in the direction of the DJ Booth.

Alannah recognized the song immediately and dragged both Castiel and Charlie to the middle of the emptying dancefloor, in the middle of a circle of confused guests; Zachariah included. His grandfather had been dancing with Naomi’s mother but was now looking suspiciously at Castiel and his friends as the lyrics to the song began;

_This speech is my recital_

_I think it’s very vital_

_To rock (a rhyme)_

_That’s right (on time)_

_It’s Tricky is the title (here we go!)_

_It’s tricky to rock a rhyme_

_To a rock a rhyme_

_That’s right (on time)_

_It’s tricky!_

Charlie and Alannah sandwiched Castiel between the two of them, much to Zachariah’s disdain, and began swaying their hips and flailing their arms while they sang along with Run D.M.C’s lyrics. Castiel barked out a laugh and began grinding along with them, not caring that almost all eyes in the room were on them. Zachariah had stomped over to the DJ booth and was gesturing angrily at the DJ, and this only made the three of them laugh harder. Some of the guests were beginning to laugh, and others even hesitantly dancing again to the upbeat music. Alannah was behind him, her thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his slacks, moving her hips in time with his, and Charlie was facing his front, her hands covering Alannah’s on his hips. Castiel’s hands were raised in the, waving wildly as he squirmed in between the two girls. People were beginning to crowd into the dance floor again, enjoying the change in music, and Castiel even caught another glimpse of his father on the side of the room; only this time he was laughing along with his mother. Even Michael was out on the dancefloor with Claire, twirling her around and picking her up to spin her.

Everyone in the room welcomed the change; everyone except Zachariah. He stood at the foot of the stage, glowering at Castiel. But he didn’t care. Zachariah didn’t matter. Crowley didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because Castiel had kept Dean from harm and he’d made two wonderful new friends in the process. So he looked right at his grandfather and grinned. It was going to be a good new year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Crowley's reign of terror *shrieks* I hope you all know that I laughed my way through writing the last few paragraphs of this chapter because I was envisioning Castiel all dirty dancing between two girls.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean had been nervous about sending his boyfriend the video he’d made when the clock struck twelve on New Year’s. Before Cas, he was never one to give in to the urge to do squishy, mushy, romantic things for his significant other. He’d been in a few short relationships with other guys who were much the same as himself and it had always felt like he had just a regular bro that he could hang out with, but also kiss as much as he wanted. With Cas, things were so different. He wanted to be with him all the time, to take care of him, to listen to him talk, to watch him sleep, anything. So, when Castiel didn’t immediately respond to the video, Dean was worried. He thought that maybe it was a little too over the top or girly, and when an hour had passed with no response, even his family had begun to notice the surly direction his attitude had gone. His mother reminded him more than once that Castiel was with his family at a charity event so he may not be able to check his phone, and although it made sense, it did nothing to relax him. He missed Cas, more than he thought it was possible _to_ miss another human being.

Around one in the morning, both of his parents retired to their room and only he and Sam remained on the couch, determined to finish their ongoing marathon of Harry Potter movies before they passed out. At two, they were halfway through Order of the Phoenix and Sam was snoring lightly on the loveseat, half of his limbs spilling over the edges of the furniture. So Dean turned off the movie, threw an afghan from the back of the couch over his brother and climbed the stairs to his room. He stripped down to his boxers and lay in his bed, still internally whining about the lack of response from Cas. However, almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, a series of small chirps erupted from his phone across the room and he almost fell out of bed as he flailed with excitement.

He opened the phone to see four consecutive texts from Cas and he grinned. _Finally_.

**_[Cas: I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. It has been a long night.]_ **

**_[Cas: I loved the video, Dean. It made me miss you even more than I already had. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.]_ **

**_[Cas: I have so many things to tell you.]_ **

**_[Cas: <Download Media Message>]_ **

Dean immediately clicked the download button on the last text message, eager to see the picture that Castiel was sending. When the download was finished, he opened it up to see Cas’ laughing face squeezed between the faces of two pretty young girls, one blonde and one redhead. Cas’ eyes were closed and his teeth were all in full view as a wide, genuine grin stretched across his face. The redhead was looking directly into the camera, giving a thumbs up as she puckered her lips against his cheek, and the blonde on the opposite side looked like she was trying to hold back her own laughter as she pressed her lips against his stubble. There was a pointy, green party hat sliding off of Castiel’s head and a flurry of confetti and balloons in the background behind them. Dean grinned. Castiel had some real fun tonight, it seemed, and he was glad. His boyfriend had been so worried about this party, so tense and unhappy over the course of their break and Dean had been worried that the stress was going to hurt him. He didn’t recognize the girls in the picture, and he doesn’t recall Castiel ever talking about any female friends from back home, so he assumed that these were new friends of his. It was relaxing to see Cas so happy with other people because Dean knew that he didn’t have many friends before their relationship, and the few friends he did have, like Chuck, were not terribly close to him. Since they’d been together, Castiel has developed a stronger bond with Chuck and he gained the friendship of Sam, Ash, Jo, and even the beginnings of a brotherhood with Benny on the few occasions that they had all partied together. Despite all of this, Dean was happy to see him connecting with people, especially on nights like tonight when he needed it the most and Dean couldn’t be with him.

**[You look gorgeous in that picture, Cas. You seem to be having a good night with your new friends. Do I get an introduction someday?]**

**_[Cas: The blonde is Alannah and the redhead is Charlie. My grandfather made me dance with Charlie earlier this evening and we found common ground in the fact that we were not sexually attracted to one another. Alannah is Charlie’s fiancée.]_ **

Dean laughed. No wonder they all got along. If Charlie and Cas were being forced to dance with one another, that probably meant that the girls’ relationship was being hidden from the other guests as well. Now, even more than just minutes ago, Dean was glad for Charlie’s entrance into Cas’ life. Castiel loved Dean’s family and friends, but there was still an underlying nervousness in him when he was crowded in with them. From the looks of the picture, Charlie and Alannah put Cas at ease and he allowed himself to have fun with them like he did when he was just with Dean.

**[Well I’m glad they are there to take care of you when I can’t be. I miss you.]**

**_[Cas: I miss you too, Dean. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.]_ **

**[Would you mind if I called you or are you busy?]**

Dean felt a little ridiculous asking, but after two hours of brooding about Cas not texting him back, he wanted to hear his voice just for a minute. He missed Cas something awful, and that paired with the easy, beautiful smile he’d seen on Cas’ face in the picture, made him think he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night unless he heard Cas’ voice telling him goodnight.

His phone rang less than a minute later and Cas’ name popped up on the screen.

He answered immediately. “Hey, you.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean relaxed into his pillow and sighed happily. “I know I already said it, but I miss you. I didn’t….it’s…I know it sounds really--I don’t know--stupid, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without, you know, hearing your voice.”

Cas chuckled lightly on the other line. “I know what you mean. I’ve been feeling like that about you all during break. I’m so used to being with you at night, and I feel cold now when I’m all alone.”

Dean grinned and he was about to respond when he heard girlish coos in the background and then Cas shushing someone. Dean just laughed. “I take it those are your new friends?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Charlie says we are disgustingly adorable and Alannah thinks we are cute.” And then in a slightly louder voice so the girls behind him could hear, “Clearly I have made a bad choice in friends because they seem to not respect my personal space.”

Dean laughed. “Well, I seem to remember you having a few personal space issues with me back when we met so maybe they’re the perfect new friends for you.”

“Yes, well,” Cas started, then cleared his throat. “I was courting you at the time, sort of.”

Dean heard the girls cackling in the background, and he imagined Castiel playfully glaring at them while he blushed up to the tips of his ears. “What time will you be here tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’m not sure just yet. I’m leaving as soon as I wake up, though, so probably early afternoon.”

Dean smiled to himself. “Okay, have fun while you’re out tonight. I’m glad you had a good night so far.” Castiel hesitated over the line and Dean frowned. “You did have fun, right?”

“Yes, I did,” Cas responded. And then added, “For the most part.”

“What happened?” Dean asked immediately.

Cas just sighed into the phone. “We can talk about it tomorrow when I get there, okay? I just…would rather not speak about it over the phone.”

“You, uh, you kind of got me worried now, babe.”

“Don’t be worried, Dean. It’s nothing, really.”

Dean sat up, nervous. “It’s not…it’s not, like, us, is it?”

“No!” Cas yelped into the phone without hesitation. The volume shocked Dean so much he had actually dropped the phone. When he scrambled to pick it back up and hold it to his ear, Cas was still nervously rambling. “…not anything to do with our relationship. Nothing like that, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you think that. I miss you so much, and I never stop missing you. Please don’t think I’m unhappy with you, because I’m not, okay? I’m sorry. It was just a little mishap that occurred during the party and I’d rather not talk about it over the phone.”

Dean cringed. The “little mishap” was probably just more homophobic junk spewed at Cas by his grandfather. Dean actually hated a man he had never met. And with good reason.

“Alright,” he said into the phone. “Call me when you’re on your way tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” Cas responded, voice soft.

“I miss you,” Dean said once again. “It’s too cold without you here too, you know.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said, and he could hear the shy smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, Cas.”


	29. Chapter 29

Dean was vibrating with nervous excitement all morning while he awaited Cas’ arrival. They’d been away from each other for just over a week, but it felt like months. They hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours at a time since Thanksgiving and when Dean thought about how miserable he’d been during their separation, he felt absolutely pathetic and he did not care one bit. Cas made him happy, and if the price to pay for that was sitting idly by while Sam made annoying jokes about he and Cas getting married and adopting children from third world countries, then so be it. Usually while he was at home on break, Dean would visit his Uncle Bobby’s garage and tinker with some of the old junker cars, hole up in his room and read a few auto magazines, surf around the web, or roam around town with Sam. This time, however, while he waited for Cas to arrive at his parent’s house, Dean parked himself on the couch in the family room all morning watching a Dr. Sexy marathon while he stole glances out the front window every few minutes.

Sam was not fooled by the television ruse.

“You gonna be okay, Dean?” Sam asked, then pressed his lips together to stop laughter from spewing out.

“Shut up, Sammy, I’m watching t.v.”

“The t.v. is on the wall, Dean, not out the window.”

“Shut up.”

“Dea-“

“ _Shut up_.”

Sam snorted and wandered off into the kitchen. He emerged a few minutes later, munching on an apple, and leaned up against the arch between the kitchen and family room. Dean ignored Sam’s light chewing and pretended to focus on the television.

“Oh, hey,” Sam said, pointing at the window. “Cas is here.”

Dean’s head snapped over to the window and he leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend. But when he looked outside, he didn’t see any new cars, or even any people walking near the house. He whipped his head back around to glare at Sam, but the little shit was already walking back up the stairs, cackling the whole way. Their mother shouted ‘ _Be nice, Samuel!_ ” at Sam from the kitchen, but Dean just grumbled to himself about annoying little brothers and revenge as he sunk back into the couch and impatiently awaited Castiel’s arrival.

At two in the afternoon, his phone rang at his side and it was Cas.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, hoping he sounded less impatient than he was.

“Dean,” Cas sniffed into the phone, breathless like he’d been crying.

“What’s wrong, Cas? Are you okay?”

Cas giggled. Like, a real, high pitched giggle. “I’m fine, Dean. I’m more than fine. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m just leaving my house now. My…my father wanted to talk to me before I left and he—“

“What did he do? Are they acting shitty to you again?”

“Dean, no, it’s not like that. He apologized to me, Dean. And he…he yelled at my grandfather. He finally stood up for me.”

A wide grin broke out on Dean’s face. “That’s awesome, Cas. When did this happen?”

“Just a little while ago. I’ll tell you more when I get there, okay? I’m on my way.”

“Alright, drive safely. I can’t wait until you get here.”

Castiel made a pleasant humming sound. “Me either.”

He knew Castiel had a good hour or more drive ahead of him so he relaxed back into the couch and lost himself in Dr. Sexy while he waited. Sam eventually joined him on the couch again and a few new jokes about Dean’s impatience later, they found themselves on the floor in the wrestling match of the century. Limbs were still flailing everywhere when the doorbell sounded. Dean struggled out of Sam’s grip to make his way to the door, but Sam latched his arms around Dean’s shins, effectively knocking him down so he could get an arm around Dean’s neck while his stupidly long legs wrapped around Dean’s waist.

“I have to get the door!” He growled as he started prying Sam’s arm from around his neck.

Sam was laughing and wheezing behind him, tired from the exertion of holding Dean down. “Better throw me off soon then before Cas gets bored and wanders away.”

Dean growled and flailed in Sam’s hold, catching his little brother on the face with the back of his hand and laughing when Sam dropped an F-bomb and got yelled at by their mother. At the second ring of the doorbell, Mary came out of the kitchen and rolled her eyes at her children before stepping around them to answer the door.

Dean and Sam were still struggling in each other’s grip on the other side of the couch, so Dean couldn’t see the front door, but he could hear Cas’ voice as he greeted Dean’s mother at the door.

“Hi, sweetie,” His mother greeted. “How was your party last night?”

“Hello, Mary,” Cas responded. “It was fun. How were the holidays here?”

“Hectic, as always, with all that family in town. Come on in, Dean’s on the other side of the couch acting like a toddler with his brother.”

“Hey!” Dean wheezed indignantly.

Cas rounded the couch and Dean finally saw him. After eight days of Cas-lessness, his boyfriend was standing by his mother, wearing a pair of tight, black jeans and an emerald green hoodie. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were shining brightly as he grinned down at Dean on the floor. Dean was struggling to get up and greet him, but Sam continued to fight against him. Cas just laughed and nudged at the pair of brothers on the floor with his toes.

Mary rolled her eyes and grinned. “So boys, what do we want for dinner tonight? Your dad is in Garden City with his crew until Tuesday, so we get to eat all the stuff he doesn’t like while he’s gone without worrying.”

“Stuffed peppers!” Sam shouted.

“Blegh,” Dean responded, sticking out his tongue. “That’s nasty, Sammy.”

Sam finally released his hold on Dean long enough for the older Winchester to stand and stretch. Sam stayed sitting on the ground, catching his breath while Dean leaned in to peck Cas on the lips.

He intertwined his fingers with Cas’ and looked back to his mom. “How about eggplant parmesan?”

“No,” Sam grumbled from the floor.

Dean slapped him on the back of the head. “Excuse you, eggplant parmesan is delicious and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I know it’s good, Dean, but do you know how much cheese and grease is on eggplant parmesan?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Hence why it’s so good.”

“No, hence why it’s so _bad_ for you.”

“You’re sixteen years old, dufus, you’re not supposed to worry about what’s good or bad for you yet.”

Sam just waved a hand at him. “How about vegataria—“

“No,” Dean interrupted, causing Sam to scowl. “Automatic no to anything with the word ‘vegatarian’ in it.”

Mary turned toward Cas. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner tonight, Castiel?”

Cas just shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“Well, we better figure it out because otherwise these two will sit here and fight about for the next forty years.”

Dean and Sam both made offended sounds, but neither tried to argue. Mary knew her children well.

“Wait, I know!” Sam piped up. “We can order in from the new Thai place downtown. We got their takeout menu in the mailbox last month but we haven’t been in because Dad doesn’t like Asian food!”

Mary deliberated for a moment before shrugging and nodding. “That okay with everyone else?”

Dean nodded enthusiastically and looked at Cas who just shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never had Thai food before.”

“It’s _awesome_ ,” Sam drawled.

Cas smiled. “I am usually pretty good about trying new things, as long as it is not raw fish. Sushi is really the one and only food I’d like to keep away from.”

Dean laughed. “I’ll help you order, come on.”

They all rushed into the kitchen and spread out the yellow menu on the table. Sam got a full order of Moo Nam Tok, Mary decided on some seafood curry, and Castiel followed Dean’s example and they both got an order of chicken Pad Thai. They decided to get enough spring rolls to feed a small army and a huge order of their coconut sweet-rice with mango for dessert. Mary placed the call immediately and they were given an hour before the food was ready for pickup; so, naturally, Dean tugged Cas quickly out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom so he could properly greet him.

Once the bedroom door was shut, Dean plastered himself to Cas. His arms looped around the slightly shorter boy’s waist and he buried his nose in his boyfriend’s neck. Cas’ arms immediately found their way around Dean’s neck and he settled into the embrace with a pleased hum. They stayed like that a few moments before Cas started running his fingers gently through Dean’s hair, and then tugged lightly at the nape of his neck to get his attention. Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas, only inches away from his face.

Castiel grinned at him and ran his fingers down Dean’s jaw. “Now that you’re done playing Wrestlemania with Sam, do you think you could give me a proper kiss? I’ve missed you.”

Dean grinned and leaned forward to kiss him. The first meeting of their lips was awkward and full of clacking teeth because they were both smiling to wide to close their lips. But in just seconds, their frantic, happy kisses slowed to a more languid pace and their lips melded softly together. The kiss deepened quickly, tongues twining and fingers traveling over hips and shoulders. Castiel tasted fresh and minty, and Dean was suddenly very grateful that he’d remembered to brush his teeth after he ate lunch that afternoon. The room was warmer with Cas inside, and Dean could feel heat seeping through his skin due to his proximity to the irresistible brunette in his arms. He started walking them slowly toward his bed as their lips continued meeting, and when the backs of Cas’ knees hit the mattress, he allowed Dean to lower him onto the sheets. Cas opened his legs, making room for Dean to slide between them and press their torsos together. Dean had his arms on either side of Cas’ head, his hands gently twisting into the soft, dark locks of hair; and Cas wound his legs around Dean’s waist and let his hands trail beneath the back of Dean’s t-shirt and trace soft lines up and down his spine. Their tongues battled, then mated, and their fingers started to grab harder, push rougher, and seek with intent rather than exploration. Soon, their hips were swiveling, grinding together and creating a delicious friction that drew soft noises from the mouths of both boys.

Finally, Cas turned his head away from Dean and buried his face in one hand and took a few shaky breaths. Dean just continued letting his lips roam the side of Cas’ jaw and neck, never paying enough attention to one spot to leave a mark, but sucking at each bit of skin until Cas arched beneath him.

“Shit, Dean,” Cas mewled quietly. “You have to stop.”

“But why,” he mumbled into Cas’ neck.

Cas huffed out a laugh, that tapered off into a moan when Dean sunk his teeth lightly into his collarbone. “You, _hnnghh_ , you know why. Your mother and brother are downstairs.”

“Missed you,” Dean whispered, the words hitting the bottom of Cas’ chin where Dean had begun to nip and lick at his skin.

“Missed you too, but I’m not going to have people hearing us. _Again._ ”

Dean chuckled at the reminder, but did not stop kissing around Cas’ throat. “Not gonna have sex, just wanna kiss you.”

Cas sighed, resigned but not resentful, and used his fingers to tip Dean’s face back up to his and kiss him full on the mouth. They were grinning into their kisses again, making wet smacking sounds and laughing as their lips pressed together. Cas then raised himself to one elbow, pushing at Dean’s shoulder with the other hand until he had room to flip them over. Cas now sat straddling Dean’s hips, with his face in Dean’s neck leaving tiny biting, sucking kisses all over his flesh. Dean dug his hands into the back pockets of Cas’ jeans and gave his ass a firm squeeze. This caused Cas to buck forward, rubbing their fully clothed erections together, and both boys released low moans. Dean continued groping along Cas’ hips and ass, even giving him a light, playful spanking while Cas nibbled softly at his lips. Cas was the first of them to give in and reach for the zippers of their pants. He stroked his hand lightly over Dean’s bulge and bit his lip shyly while Dean stared him down. Of course that would be when they got interrupted.

“Dean!” His mother’s voice rang through the house Cas immediately snatched his hand away and whipped his head toward the door, even though it was clear that Dean’s mother was still downstairs. “Sam and I are going to pick up some movies and get the food, do you guys want anything from the store?”

“No!” Dean called back, thanking every deity ever that his voice didn’t crack out of sheer sexual frustration.

Cas had his hands clamped over his mouth, staring at the door, like he was afraid Dean’s mother could hear his labored breathing and sense what they were doing and Dean laughed. But as soon as they both heard the car start up in the driveway, Cas attacked his mouth again. He nipped at Dean’s bottom lip while his nails scratched over Dean’s shirt lightly from his collarbones to the waistband of his jeans, where he dipped the tips of his fingers inside.

“You know,” Cas started quietly, his mouth moving right beside Dean’s ear. “I thought about this a lot since that phone call the other day.”

Dean stroked his hands up and down his boyfriend’s thighs. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about this every day.”

Cas just blushed profusely and straightened up so he was sitting tall over top of Dean. “Well, yes, me too. But I meant this specifically. Me, on top of you. I can’t bottom for you, but if I could, this is how I think I’d like to do it.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Yeah? You been thinking about riding me, Cas?”

Cas trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, letting his fingers draw light, teasing patterns at the exposed skin of Dean’s abdomen. Dean let his hands slide back up Cas’ thighs and tighten on his hips. He pulled Cas forward a little so he was sitting almost directly over top of the bulge in his pants.

“You’d be sitting closer to here if you were gonna ride me,” Dean said quietly, eyes still locked with Castiel. He pushed and pulled a little at Cas’ waist, creating a short, steady rocking movement where their groins brushed together lightly. “Come on, Cas, ride me.”

Cas brought one hand up to his face to pick at his lip nervously. He was moving minutely in Dean’s hands, but his face was aflame with embarrassment. “I-I…I don’t…”

Dean sat up, stilling his hands on Cas’ hips. In this position Dean’s eyes were level with Cas’ nose, so all he had to do was tilt his face up to capture his boyfriend’s lips in a short, sweet kiss. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, baby. You know that, right? I want this just as much as you do so you don’t have to hide from me.”

Cas shifted in his lap and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. He leaned in to kiss him once, twice, a third time, and then started pulling Dean’s t-shirt up over his head. Dean complied and helped ease the shirt off of himself, immediately rucking up Cas’ sweater when his chest was bare. The green hoodie was tossed aside and Cas’ arms wound around Dean’s neck again and their lips met once again. In the midst of a filthy kiss, Cas finally started gyrating his hips in tiny circles. Dean steadied himself on the bed with one arm, and the other was wrapped around Cas’ waist, his hand palming at his ass, and Cas wove his fingers in Dean’s hair and pressed their foreheads together as he rocked in Dean’s lap. Dean dragged his hand across the waistband of Cas’ jeans, gripping his cock through the fabric and rubbing him off as his hips rolled back and forth over Dean’s own hard-on. Dean’s eyes were clenched shut as sparks of pleasure zinged through his body, from the point of their connection all the way to the tips of his toes and the ends of his hair. With a little fumbling and a whole lot of tugging, Dean jerked Cas’ pants and pulled out his steadily leaking dick.

Cas keened at the first touch of Dean’s hand on him, and he undulated his hips faster, rocking back onto Dean’s clothed cock and forward into his fist that was gripped loosely around him. Dean was slowly bucking up into Cas’ ass, rubbing harder against him and increasing the friction as they both desperately chased their orgasms. Cas gave a few more shuddering thrusts and then he was coming, shooting off strands of sticky whiteness all over Dean’s fingers and stomach. He burrowed into Dean’s neck and took a few deep breaths, all the while still rocking his ass against Dean’s denim-clad hardness. When he leaned back, his hands made their way down Dean’s chest to play with his waistband again. Dean lowered his eyes and watched Cas’ hands tear at his zipper, and he was breathing heavily; so close to release, but still just needing that one small push into oblivion. And then he saw it.

Five dark, angry purplish bruises littered Cas’ forearm, with a sickening yellow-green hue seeping out around the edge of each small mark. A bruise wouldn’t normally cause Dean so much panic, but these particular blemishes on Cas’ skin were the perfect size and shape for…fingerprints.

He grabbed Cas’ wrist and tore it away from his jeans, lifting his boyfriend’s forearm to his eyes so he could see the marks closer. Cas’ head shot up and he tilted his head in confusion.

“What are these?” Dean asked.

Cas looked at his arm where Dean had been studying him and his face fell. His eyes widened and they shifted from Dean back to his arm multiple times before he finally shook himself out of Dean’s grip and crossed his arms over his stomach, using his right hand to cover the bruises on his arm.

He tried to look away from Dean, but he settled his hands on Cas’ neck and turned his face forward again, gently. “Cas, is someone hurting you?”

Cas just shook his head. “Dean, it’s nothing like that. It’s not like I’m an abuse victim or something.“

“That’s what abuse victims say, Cas.” Dean responded, his face tight. Every ounce of sexual feeling had been blown away from Dean’s body the second he saw Cas curl in on himself. “Tell me who did it.”

“I’m not being abused, Dean. It was just one fight and I won, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.”

Cas sighed. “Dean, I can’t—“

“Are they going to try and hurt you again?”

Castiel shook his head immediately. “No, never. I made sure of that.”

Dean sighed. “Then why can’t you tell me who it was?”

Cas leaned into him then, burying his face in Dean’s neck while his arms were still trapped between their stomachs. Dean immediately wrapped his arms around Cas and started tracing circles on his back. “If I tell you, Dean, you have to promise you won’t do anything because I’ve already taken care of it.”

“I promise,” he mumbled into Cas’ hair, where he pressed a delicate kiss.

Cas leaned back and his eyes searched Dean’s face again before speaking. “It was Crowley.”

Red rage blurred through Dean’s vision and he jerked like he was going to stand, but Castiel clamped his thighs down outside his hips and wrapped his arms vice-tight around Dean’s shoulders.

“When?” Dean growled.

“Dean, calm down ple—“

“ _When, Cas!_ ”

“Yesterday.”

Dean exhaled loudly. “And you didn’t think to tell me that he was fucking with you when _it happened_? I would have drove out there in a second and you know it.”

“It was past midnight, Dean!”

Dean pried Castiel’s arms away from him and he leaned back so he could look at his face. “He was at your parent’s party?” Cas nodded at him. “Fuck…fucking how?”

“H-he saw my picture in the paper with my parents advertising the charity auction. He found me on facebook and then he found out your last name,” Cas’ voice was shaking as he recounted the events from last night and Dean just rested his hands on his boyfriend’s jaw and listened, trying to quell the murderous anger he felt for that smarmy bastard Crowley. “I was in the bathroom watching your video, and I started to make a video response for you, but he walked in and cornered me. I dropped my phone when it happened and when he left the room I saw that it had recorded most of the a-assault. So, Charlie helped me find him and blackmail him with the video of him trying to hurt me so he would keep his mouth shut about us and the races. We’re safe now, Dean. I fixed it, okay?”

Dean saw the tears that were on the rim of Cas’ eyes as he spoke, and he definitely didn’t miss the way Cas’ voice broke when he said the world ‘assault’. “You gotta grab someone real hard to make bruises like that, Cas. What the hell did he do to you?” He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer to that.

Cas just shook his head and a few small tears escaped where they were trapped beneath his eyelids.

Dean felt his own eyes growing blurry with both sad and angry tears. “Cas…”

“He didn’t get very far, Dean, I swear. He said that he’d leave us alone if I fucked him, but I refused and he hit me. He hit me and then he bent me over the counter and held me down. He tried to yank my pants off, but he moved the wrong way and I headbutted him, so he left. I promise he didn’t touch me, so I’m okay, Dean. I’m okay.”

Dean jerked Cas forward into a bone-crushing hug. Crowley had tried to… _Jesus Christ._ His breaths were labored and tears dropped freely from his eyes, falling onto Cas’ shoulder; he could feel saline drops falling from Cas’ crying eyes onto his skin as well and it made him feel like his insides were being torn apart.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m sorry that happened to you because of me. I’d rather spend a fuckin’ year or two in jail than let that piece of shit ever, ever touch you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Cas mumbled against his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Cas, he—“

“He didn’t do anything, Dean. He didn’t get the chance. I just wanted to help you like you’ve helped me.”

Dean lifted Cas at the waist and spun them until they were both laying on their sides, facing one another. “I’ve done nothing to deserve you protecting me like that, Cas. Nothing. He could have hurt you and I never would have forgiven myself for that. I don’t want you hurt because of me.”

Cas stroked lightly down the side of Dean’s face with his fingertips. “I have a life because of you, Dean. I have friends and I leave my dorm for more than class and jogging now. I stood up to my grandfather and Crowley, bigots that would have destroyed me before I met you. Before you I was just going through the motions, but you give me something to look forward to everyday, something to be happy about. I wouldn’t do anything differently if it meant that I got to keep you safe, Dean.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Cas, I—“

_No. Not yet. Major tragedy is not the right time for the L-word. It’ll just make him feel pressured._

“—thank you. You mean more to me than anything, okay? Don’t keep things like that from me, Cas. I want to eviscerate anyone who hurts you.”

Castiel smiled at him, his tears all dried up. “Can I tell you about all the good things that happened since then?”

Dean nodded and wrapped himself around Castiel as he spoke. He told Dean about how he met Charlie, that she was just another random girl his grandfather had thrown at him, and that Charlie and Alannah accepted him immediately. He told him about how she’d tried to teach him to play poker but he just couldn’t grasp it for some reason. That made Dean let out a small snort. But what made him really laugh was Cas telling him the story about how Charlie had hacked into the surround sound and started playing 90s rap music. He shook in Cas’ arms, laughing until his ribs hurt while his boyfriend told him all about being sandwiched between to small girls, dirty dancing to Run D.M.C. and Vanilla Ice while his grandpa glared from a distance. And then there was this morning, before he’d arrived at Dean’s. Cas told him that his grandfather showed up to breakfast at his parent’s house and pointed an accusing finger at him, blaming him for the music fiasco. His father had tried to jump in, telling Cas’ grandfather that none of it even mattered because all of the guests had fun anyway and several people even complimented the upbeat change in music. His grandfather wouldn’t back down, though, and he threw homophobic slurs and angry curse words at Castiel. For the first time, Cas said, his father yelled at his grandfather. He screamed at him to stop belittling his family and that there is no God in people like him, who use themselves to promote hatred and intolerance. His father then kicked the old man out of his house and told him not to come back until he could respect his family. His _entire_ family.

Cas’ eyes were bright and happy while he told Dean about his family’s victory. He could tell that this was an enormous weight lifted off his boyfriend’s shoulders, having his family stand united against a bully, and he was glad. Only a few minutes after Cas was done telling his triumphs, they heard the front door open and Mary and Sam’s voices filtered up through the hall, along with the spicy-sweet smell of fresh Thai food. Dean kissed Cas again, letting their lips linger, and then pulled him up to redress themselves. He caught him once more before they headed downstairs, and Cas looked up at him, eyes searching. Dean just pressed his forehead against Cas’, hoping it conveyed all of the gratefulness, affection, and love he felt for him, and he felt Cas relax enormously at the touch. When he pulled away, Cas smiled at him and headed downstairs.

 _Damn it_. _Should have just fucking said it._


	30. Chapter 30

Having Cas with him at home for seven straight days was perfect, except for the simple fact that after that first day, they seemed to have absolutely _no_ time alone. Dean’s mother had won four free tickets to an acrobatics show at the Performing Arts Center and she’d rounded up Dean, Cas, and Sam to go with her. The show was outstanding, interesting even to Dean, who’d been adamant about not going all day. He didn’t want to watch what he called “a bunch of flexible gymnasts doing glorified cartwheels” on the stage for three hours, but after the show had started he was more excited than anyone. These people were spinning plates on sticks while they made complicated human pyramids, shooting arrows with their feet while their legs were bent over their heads, and one man even balanced his entire body upside down with only one hand while he was on a thirty foot high single-stack of chairs. _Chairs_. Dean’s mother and Sam were both watching happily, Cas was gaping in silent awe, but Dean was internally freaking out. With each new trick he’d curse under his breath or flap his hands excitedly at Cas or Sam. After the show, his mother took them all out to get frozen yogurt and, of course, she made a big deal out of telling him ‘ _I told you that you’d enjoy yourself_ ’. He completely ignored her in favor of eating his chocolate fro-yo. That night, while he and Cas were laying in bed, Dean wrapped himself around his boyfriend’s back and started murmuring in his ear about all the ways they should try and test _their_ flexibility, but his tired body had other plans and he fell asleep mid-sentence. Cas teased him about it the entire next day, continuously pretending to fall asleep in mid-conversation.

The last full day of vacation, Dean took Cas (and Sam and Jo, the leeches) to a smaller art museum right in Topeka while Jo’s mom and their mother went to lunch together. Cas had stars in his eyes during the entire trip, regardless of the fact that this museum was much smaller than the one they’d visited on his birthday. It was bittersweet for Dean to see Cas like this, happy and entranced by something he loves so much, because his life could be so different if he’d just embrace it. Cas, despite his rocky past with his father and grandfather, was going to school to be just like them in a way. Sure, his father had come around recently and begun to stand up for his family, but Dean couldn’t help thinking that Cas’ choice in education was a way to please his family and not himself. Art made him happy, and although he had constantly refused to let Dean see his work, he was sure that it couldn’t be _that_ bad. Cas was brilliant, his brain was like a sponge and he absorbed the knowledge from his classes with ease, but he’d never seen Cas’ eyes light up about Leviticus the way they did about Salvador Dali or Georgia O’Keefe. Dean had asked Cas several times throughout their relationship if he was happy with his major, and although he would tense up and hesitate, Cas would always say yes. He said that it would be nice to continue the family tradition and being a professor of religions was an “honorable” career choice.

That night before bed, Cas was in the shower and Dean’s resolve and patience finally broke. He dug Cas’ sketchbook out of his duffelbag and brought it to the bed, where he sat staring at it for several seconds. He felt guilty already and he hadn’t even opened it yet. It was the sketchbook that Dean bought him for his birthday, and although he’d only had it for just over a month, the corners of the book were worn like it was often used and he carried it with him everywhere. He should just put it back in Cas’ bag and pretend he was never about to look. He should have, but he didn’t. He flipped open the cover of the book and his heart stopped. The first picture in the book was a series of drawings, very _good_ drawings, of the necklace Dean had made him for his birthday that got lost at the track. There was a fully colored and shaded version of the entire necklace on the suede string right in the middle of the page, and multiple black and white sketches of the snake charm on its own, same with the wings. It was beautiful. He flipped to the next page and found a picture of what looked like a Pegasus, uncolored with rough lines like it had been a quick sketch. After that, there were several drawings of landscapes, some colored and shaded, others not. He recognized the pictures Castiel had drawn from memory of the racetrack and the lake beside it. There were small sketches scattered throughout the page of the Impala, some realistic and others cute and cartoony. Each picture was signed with his initials and dated, like a real artist. Cas was talented beyond words and it made Dean’s chest ache to think that Cas didn’t believe it. And then it was like a hole had been punched through him; the last page that had been used was dated a few days prior, the day they’d gone to the acrobatics show. He saw himself on the page, his face relaxed and his eyes closed in sleep. His mouth was slightly open, lips curved slightly upward and a tiny hint of teeth showing, and his eyelashes made a dark fan against his cheekbones, where each and every freckle he possessed was drawn in perfectly. His eyes swept over the page, taking in the placement of his own hands, where each knuckle and nail were expertly sketched. This was how Cas saw him, relaxed and beautiful and happy, and he instantly felt guilt and self-hatred twisting in his gut. These were Cas’ private drawings and he shouldn’t have looked, he should have never even thought about it. He closed the book and set it back in Cas’ bag where he’d found it. When he reached his bed, he curled up in a ball and silently berated himself for having invaded Cas’ privacy like that.

When Cas came back from his shower, he was wearing a pair of Dean’s pajama pants and one of his ACDC shirts. He looked at Dean on the bed and smiled, and although it only made Dean feel worse about what he’d done, he smiled back. Cas climbed in the bed beside him, throwing an arm over Dean’s waist and using Dean’s chest as a pillow. They were both breathing steadily, comfortable in the silence. After a few minutes, Cas’ hand started to migrating south, slowly and almost unnoticeably. Just as his fingers hit the waistband of Dean’s pajamas, he leaned up to kiss him. The bad feeling in Dean’s gut was gone in an instant, replaced instead by the sheer wonderment of Cas initiating sex when he was usually adamant about _not_ fucking at Dean’s parent’s house. Cas’ lips were light on his, brushing up against him in only the barest of touches while his fingers toyed with the elastic on his pants. Dean relaxed into the mattress, allowing their lips to meld together. When Cas’ fingers finally slipped beneath the band of his pajamas, he let his nose skim lightly across Dean’s jaw, all the way to his ear.

“Can I, Dean?” Cas whispered softly into his ear. “Can I fuck you tonight? It’s been weeks and I want you so bad.”

Dean responded with quiet, shaky _yes_ and then proceeded to yank his own shirt off of Cas’ torso. The kisses were no longer sweet and small after that, but hard, rough, and wanting. Their teeth clacked together with the force of their need and both boys’ hands were scrabbling for purchase against the others’ skin. Pants were wrenched off with no real finesse and thrown across the room without a care. Cas slid off the bed, naked, to pad across the room to his bag. Dean admired the way his boyfriend looked as he bent over to rifle through his things. Cas’ body was perfection, thanks largely to the hours of running he did before his morning classes. His strong, muscled calves led up to shapely thighs and a perfectly round, exquisite ass that Dean wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into. The running had definitely done Cas’ body good, and Dean thought back to Cas’ birthday when they’d fooled around in the shower. What Cas had done to him, rimming him under the spray of the shower, was something they hadn’t talked about before that. They didn’t talk about it after either and it hadn’t happened again, but Dean found himself wanting to show Cas how great it had been, and that there were other things Dean could do to his ass even if he couldn’t penetrate him.

 Cas plucked a small bottle of lube and a condom out of the side pocket of his duffel and returned to the bed, where he tossed them by the pillow and bent over to plant a kiss at Dean’s collarbone. Cas tried to wiggle his way between Dean’s legs, but Dean just lurched forward and tackled Cas down onto his bed, attacking his mouth. Cas grinned into the kiss and let Dean finagle his way on top.

“Gonna ride me?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean just shook his head with a smirk and Cas tilted his head in confusion. Dean slid his way down Cas’ legs and gripped his hips, flipping his boyfriend onto his stomach.

Cas went willingly, but turned his head to glance back at him. “Dean..?”

Dean covered Cas’ body with his own and nipped at his earlobe. “The reciprocation’s a little overdue, but I promise I’ll make it good.”

He leaned over to capture Cas’ lips once more and Cas sighed into the kiss, all while minutely grinding himself upward into Dean’s body. Dean let his lips trail a path of small kisses down Cas’ spine, stopping at the dimples above his backside, where he dipped his tongue into each one before biting into the fleshy part of his ass. Cas gasped and jerked forward slightly, rutting himself against the bed, then let out a small laugh.

“Okay?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded and buried his face in the pillow. “Just surprised me,” he mumbled against the pillow case.

Dean rubbed his hands along the firm globes of his boyfriend’s ass and then gripped them lightly, pulling him open and exposing him. “Gotta be quiet for me. Can you do that, baby?”

Cas made an affirmative humming noise and hitched his hips up further into Dean’s palms. Dean set his fingers to kneading the firm muscle in his hands and then leaned forward, planting kisses at the dip of Cas’ spine. His skin smelled light and sweet, like the Burt’s Bees body wash he preferred over all other brands, the snob. Dean smiled to himself and gave him one last press of lips before delving his tongue down to Cas’ opening. At first touch, Cas clenched his fingers into the sheet and muffled a tiny mewl into the pillow, so Dean decided that was a go ahead to keep on keepin’ on. He let the tip of his tongue trace small circles around the tiny pink pucker, feeling Cas trembling slightly beneath him.

“Okay?” he asked again.

Cas turned his head away from the pillow and peeked back at Dean and nodded. “Feels good,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

Dean grinned at him and Cas hid his face away again. Dean slid his hands down to Cas’ thighs and parted them in a wide V so he could lay down between them. After moving into a comfortable position between his legs, Dean smoothed his hands up Cas’ thighs, feeling all the goosebumps left in his wake, and settled his hands back on Cas’ ass, baring him open once again. He let his tongue go to work immediately, laving over his rim until he felt Cas tremble and then letting up and nipping at the swell of his ass. He could see Cas’ ribs heaving under his skin and he was rutting forward into the mattress while Dean breached him over and over again with his tongue. When Dean brought his finger up to stroke softly at the smooth skin of his perineum, Cas jerked once again and his hand flew to Dean’s scalp and tangled in his hair. He pushed Dean back with shaking fingers.

“Am I hurting you?” Dean asked, concerned.

Cas twisted around to look at Dean, his eyes were hooded and glazed over like he’d been drinking. He just shook his head. “N-no, not hurt. I just...I was going to come and I still want to fuck you.”

Dean lifted himself onto his knees and beckoned Cas forward. Cas hefted himself up off the bed and Dean’s eyes were drawn to the wet patch on the sheets where Cas’ cock had been leaking. They pressed themselves together, both raised up on their knees, chests touching while they kissed. Cas fumbled to the side with his hands, grasping for the lube. When he found it, Dean heard the click of the cap opening and Cas’ hands were moving while his lips were still connected to Dean. After taking a moment to warm the substance, Cas’ fingers found the cleft of his ass and circled around his rim with practiced ease. They’d fucked so many times in the last two months that this process had become faster and less awkward. The first few times they had sex, Cas had taken nearly twenty minutes just stretching him each time. Now that Dean’s body had accustomed itself to Cas’, the prepwork took only a few short minutes and the stretch was more pleasure than pain each time. After Cas had worked three fingers into him comfortably, he gently pushed Dean onto his bed and urged him to lay on his side.

“We’ve never done it like this before,” Dean said, looking at Cas as he lined up behind him.

Cas busied his hands with rolling on the condom while he answered. “I think your bed will make the least amount of noise this way.”

Dean reached behind him to curl his fingers in Cas’ unruly hair and bring him closer. “Look at you, always so smart,” he murmured against Cas’ lips before closing the millimeter of space between them.

Once Cas had settled himself behind Dean, he thrust two fingers back inside of him, instantly honing in on Dean’s prostate and making his breathing grow ragged. But only seconds later Cas withdrew his fingers, leaving Dean empty and wanting.

Dean growled lightly. “Fucking tease,” he snarled.

Cas laughed against his shoulder. “I was just making sure you’re still properly stretched, Dean. You know me, _always so smart._ ”

Dean chuckled. “Just fuck me already, Cas. Come on.”

Cas pressed himself up against Dean’s back, sliding his condom-covered cock up and down the crease of his ass in a teasing grind. After another quiet whine from Dean, he gripped himself at the base and Dean felt him line himself up behind him. He reached his hand back, spreading himself open to make it easier for Cas, and he couldn’t help the choked off groan that slipped from between his lips when Cas’ cock finally thrust inside him. He’d been waiting weeks for this, and finally, Cas was home. He bottomed out inside of him after only a few short thrusts and Cas spread his fingers over Dean’s hip and gripped hard. His breathing was labored, like he was anchoring himself against the tight heat surrounding his cock. No matter how many times they slept together, each time Cas seemed amazed that he could feel as wonderful as he did, and the faces and noises he made only spurred Dean on. Impatient, he began grinding himself back on Cas’ dick, his hand finding its way overtop of Cas’ so he could link their fingers over his hip bone.

That seemed to bring Cas back to the present, because seconds later he began thrusting into Dean, hard and unforgiving. The thrusts were short and shallow due to the lack of space, but they were forceful and perfectly angled. Cas had only been buried inside of him for a few minutes and he was already dangerously close to unraveling completely.

“M-missed this,” Cas stuttered against his ear, his voice hardly even audible. “Missed you. Missed being inside you, Dean, so much. So fucking perfect.”

Dean couldn’t respond with words, only tiny mewls and whimpers as Cas continued his assault on Dean’s prostate. But Cas didn’t seem to need much more response than that, because his hips began to stutter. He dragged his lips once across the side of Dean’s neck, to the juncture of his neck and shoulder where he finally bit down.  The blunt pressure of Cas’ teeth wrung out the last etches of pleasure from the ball of heat coiling in Dean’s gut, and without a hand to help, he came, shooting across the bedsheets. The intense grip he had on Cas’ hand at his hip could not have been comfortable, but Cas was powering through, fucking up into Dean with fervor. When Dean came and his muscles clenched around Cas, he was powerless, emptying himself into the condom right behind Dean. For a moment they lay there together, catching their breath and rediscovering each other’s skin with lazy, languid strokes of fingertips and lips.

After tying off the condom and throwing it in the general direction of the trashcan, Cas wrapped his limbs around Dean and kissed the side of his neck one last time before allowing sleep to claim him. Dean, however, was unable to sleep. Cas’ physical touch had made things better for the moment, but now that the moment was over and Cas was wrapped protectively around his back, the guilt came rushing back. He’d invaded Cas’ privacy and then pretended it didn’t happen so he could get off. Dean Winchester had never felt worse in his life.


	31. Chapter 31

Before break, when Dean and Castiel had registered for their winter semester, they decided to try and make their hours more manageable as a couple so they could spend more time together physically. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, both boys opted for classes that didn’t start until eleven in the morning, leaving Castiel enough time to continue his morning workouts and be ready by 9:30 to get coffee with Dean. Mondays and Wednesdays, their classes started earlier in the morning, so instead of having coffee, they would have a late dinner together either at the school’s student bistro, somewhere in town, or they would feast on the non-perishables that Dean’s mother sent home with him after break. They both had Fridays free that semester, so they used them to study and make a dent in their piles of homework for the week. Things were going well for Castiel, school-wise especially. His Fall semester Drawing teacher recommended him for the follow-up course and so he’d registered for Life Drawing & Illustration 2 as an elective for the semester. After he and Dean had started dating, his professor caught Castiel sketching Dean in his workbook multiple times, and each time she would compliment Castiel’s progress as an artist. He wasn’t lying when he’d told Dean that he made every part of his life better. Until after Winter break, that is.

Their last night at the Winchester home, Castiel had initiated sex with Dean and it was mind-blowing, especially after all the time they’d spent apart. During the last semester, the two of them had a tendency to spend every waking moment outside of class having sex, making out, or just rutting up against one another. Over break something must have changed, because even though they’d planned their schedules to give them more time together, Dean was becoming distant. They still spoke every day. They were affectionate and happy, just as they had always been, but ever since the last night of break, Dean had become sexually uninterested. Their first week back at school, he and Dean had both been bombarded with homework from their new classes so Castiel was not suspicious in the least when neither of them were awake enough for sex at night. It was understandable. The second week back was slightly confusing to Castiel. They would go to their classes during the day, and each morning and afternoon Dean would be his bright, witty self, they’d talk and laugh over coffee or takeout, and squeeze as close as physically possible on his or Cas’ bed while they watched whatever was good on Netflix. But when it came time to sleep, that’s all that would happen…sleep. Dean would roll on his side away from Castiel and wait for him to throw an arm over his waist to sleep or he would burrow behind Castiel himself and throw a leg overtop of him to pin him to the bed. There was no initiation of sex from Dean, and if Cas tried to lower his hand into Dean’s pants or started mouthing at his neck, Dean would just snuffle at him, grab his fingers and say something along the lines of ” _Not tonight, I’m not feeling well._ ” Castiel wasn’t exactly an expert at relationships, but cinematically that’s what characters say to their spouses when they begin to lose interest. He’d have left well enough alone and allowed Dean some space if he was getting sick, but it didn’t make much sense because he was more than fine during the day when they were just casually horsing around as they always do. It was worrisome, to say the least.

He worried that Dean’s affections were straying, perhaps he’d found someone else or just lost interest in Castiel all together, but things seemed so perfect outside their lack of physicality. Not to mention they spent nearly every waking moment together, so when would Dean have the time? Dean’s birthday fell in the middle of their third week into the semester, so the weekend after their second week he went home to see his parents again for an early celebration. He invited Castiel, of course, with a smile on his face, but surprising even himself, Castiel refused. He told Dean that he wanted to spend the weekend with his father and that he thought Dean should be able to give all of his attention to his family without worrying about a boyfriend too. Dean had looked hurt when Castiel refused to go, and even though it pained him to see Dean upset, he was glad that at least Dean wasn’t relieved to be getting away from him. Castiel did go home that weekend, and he did spend time with his family; they had a day out all together, Michael included because he hadn’t gone back to L.A. yet,  like they hadn’t done since he was a child. They went to see Red Tails in the movie theater, a movie about African American fighter pilots in the 40s (Claire was not particularly thrilled about this choice in film, having fallen asleep for most of it), and then afterward they had dinner at an Italian restaurant called Cinzzetti’s. It was a great day. One of the greatest Castiel had had in years because he was finally having a good time with his family again. When they all arrived back home Claire was damn near zonked out, the day full of family bonding and rich Italian food having eased her into a heavy exhaustion. She parked herself onto the family room sofa to watch cartoons until bedtime and both of their parents joined her, cups of cocoa in hand.

Castiel, instead of joining them, made his way up to his room to get started on his very first essay for his 21st Century Islam class while he waited for a phone call from Dean. When they were apart, Dean always called. He was about a third of the way through his essay when a knock sounded at his door.

“Come in,” he called.

His door opened and Michael stepped in, gesturing at the bed. “May I?”

Castiel picked at the edge of the textbook he was holding and nodded.

Michael sat and let his eyes roam over Castiel’s work. “What are you up to, little brother?”

“An essay,” Cas answered. “It’s about the difference in power of Islamic women between now and one hundred years ago.”

“That sounds…tiring,” Michael responded with smirk.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Did you need something, Michael?”

“I just came to talk, Castiel. We don’t do that much anymore.”

Castiel just shrugged. “You have a phone you could text me with.”

Michael huffed. “That goes both ways, little brother.”

“Yes, well, the last time we spoke you were telling me how awful my boyfriend was, so forgive me for not reaching out, _big brother._ ”

Michael sighed. “You know I was only trying to warn you, Castiel. You’re my brother and I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“Okay, Michael. I really do need to get back to work,” Castiel replied, hoping that his brother would recognize the dismissal. He didn’t want to talk to Michael about Dean. Especially not now with all of the unusual behavior that Dean was displaying.

Michael didn’t take the hint. He scooted himself further onto Castiel’s bed and folded his hands in his lap. “Where is Dean this weekend?”

“He’s with his parents, celebrating his birthday,” Castiel answered, not taking his eyes off of his book.

Michael made a noncommittal noise. “I thought you were close to his family. Didn’t they invite you?”

Castiel glared at Michael. “Yes they invited me, Michael, but I came home instead.”

“You don’t want to spend Dean’s birthday with him? Are you having troubles?”

Castiel could feel his face heating up with anger. “No,” he ground out. “Dean and I are fine, Michael. His actual birthday isn’t until Tuesday and I felt like seeing my family, so I came home. Why do you look for problems where there aren’t any? I’m an adult, Michael, and I can be trusted to make my own decisions, especially about who I choose to date.”

Michael put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I just want you safe. It’s not you that I don’t trust, Castiel, it’s Dean.”

“He’s never given you a reason not to trust him, Michael. You hardly even know him. You raced with him and that’s it.” Castiel shook Michael’s hand off and went back to thumbing through his textbook.

“Where do you think all of those drivers are now, Castiel?” Michael asked softly.

“I don’t care.”

Michael sighed once again. “People like that don’t stay in Kansas. I know I didn’t. None of the guys I raced with live here anymore either. People like that, people like Dean, they like excitement.”

Castiel cast Michael a reluctant glance. “What do you mean?”

“I left for California, for the bigger cities and bigger opportunities. Two of the guys I raced with, Josh and Brian, moved to New York to be actors or some such. Tom went to Chicago because he somehow “heard” of a big racing scene there. Guys like that don’t want to stay in Kansas, Castiel, and as soon as he’s given the opportunity to get out of here, Dean’s going to drop you like a bad habit.”

Castiel stared blankly at his brother for a moment before turning back to his schoolwork. “Dean wouldn’t do that to me,” he replied quietly. “I’d like you to leave now.”

Michael gave Castiel one small shake of the head and then heaved himself off the bed. “I hope you’re right about him,” he said before finally leaving and closing the door.

Dean didn’t call that night. He didn’t call on Sunday either. Castiel didn’t hear from him again until they went out for coffee on Monday morning. Dean showed up at Cas’ dorm to pick him up like nothing was amiss, and so Castiel pretended too. They sat at their usual table and Dean told him about the things his parents bought him for his birthday; clothes, dorm accessories, and some fancy new toolbox for all of his car tools. When he asked Castiel what he’d done with his weekend, he started to tell him about the day he’d spent out with his family. Throughout the story, Dean kept throwing glances over his shoulder toward the cash register. Castiel ignored it at first, but after the fifth time, he turned slightly to see what it was that kept distracting his boyfriend. He glanced over at the counter and saw the new barista, a good looking blonde boy named Adam, staring over at them. It was the same young man that served them their drinks when they first came in. And Dean was staring at him.

He felt his stomach drop immediately, and he fought down the urge to scream. Dean wasn’t even trying to be subtle, he was staring at other men right in front of his own boyfriend! Castiel immediately quit speaking and sat back in his chair, unsure of how to react. Dean noticed his lack of talking immediately, and looked at him.

“I think we should leave,” he said.

Castiel didn’t meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Because that shithead that rang us up hasn’t stopped ogling you since we walked in, even though it’s pretty god damn clear you’re already taken.”

The anger in Dean’s voice was clear, and when Castiel looked up at him he saw that Dean’s nostrils were flared as he shot a sidelong glare at the barista. The barista who was _still_ looking at their table.

Castiel breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. Dean wasn’t checking out the barista, he was seething at him. He felt a pang of guilt for having thought so little of Dean, but the sheer joy that overtook him when he realized that Dean’s eyes weren’t wandering was too strong to be tamped down.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand, twining their fingers together. “He could be looking at you, you know.”

Dean just smiled at him and shook his head. “Only an idiot would be looking at me when they _could_ be looking at you.”

Castiel blushed. How could he have ever thought Dean would be cheating when words like that slipped from his lips? Castiel stood, his fingers still linked with Dean’s, and tugged him out of his chair. They walked toward the front of the shop, throwing their cardboard cups away. On their way out the door, Dean, instead of just glancing at the still-staring barista, made full eye contact with him and gave him a glare to end all glares. The other boy didn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish, just raised a defiant eyebrow at Dean and let his eyes follow them out the door.

On Dean’s actual birthday, the two of them went into town and had dinner at a small diner where Castiel gave him his gifts; several t-shirts from his favorite bands, a miniature model ’67 Chevy Impala for him to build (which Dean went absolutely batty for), and a (very expensive) bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey that came in a silver tin with two specialized shotglasses in honor of his twenty-first birthday. Castiel, being only twenty, had to drive over to Benny’s frathouse while Dean was still in his last class and give him the cash for it. Dean’s face was bright and ecstatic, and he kept shushing Castiel when he apologized for not being able to pull together a date like Dean had given him for his birthday. He said things like “ _I’m with you, so it’s perfect_ ” and “ _I don’t need a big date, Cas, I just want to be with you._ ” But still, that night when they went to sleep, Dean burrowed under the covers and into Cas’ back without even a hint at wanting intimacy.

Castiel was scared, but he kept on moving. Dean wasn’t cheating on him, but whatever was bothering him was something he clearly did not want to talk about, so Castiel kept quiet. For weeks. On Valentine’s Day, he and Dean planned to stay in Dean’s room because Chuck was staying at his girlfriend Becky’s apartment for the night. They went out to Marisco’s for dinner, and then to an annual night-time animal exhibit that the local zoo was holding for Valentine’s Day. It was crowded in the walkways of the zoo, and they saw several other people from their university on dates as well. They watched one of the handlers do a snake show, were taught bird calls by one of the zoology interns that volunteered at the zoo, and they even got to pet and handle some lizards and turtles. The date was wonderful, and it made Castiel forget about the worry and stress of his intimacy issues with Dean. The way Dean grinned at him when he screeched about holding a gecko, how he squeezed Castiel’s hand in excitement at each new and bigger snake that the trainer revealed, all of the tiny smiles and looks that Dean gave him throughout the night were worth every bit of uncertainty he’d felt over the past month. He’d hold out as long as he had to until Dean was back to normal.

That night when they climbed in bed, a quiet episode of _Dr. Sexy MD_ was playing in the background. Dean fell asleep quickly, as usual, but with the light of the computer screen and the soft voices coming from the speakers, Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes closed. He unwound himself from Dean’s body and dug through his overnight bag for his sketch book. He pulled Dean’s desk chair out quietly and sat down, lifting both of his feet onto the bed so he could settle the sketchpad on his bent knees. He didn’t turn on the main light or desk lamp, not wanting to wake Dean, so he tilted the laptop screen slightly forward and let the brightness of the show playing guide his sight. Dean’s face was relaxed, looking young and happy. His lips always tilted slightly upward when he slept, and it always made Castiel happy because he liked to think that meant Dean had pleasant dreams. He sketched the curve of Dean’s shoulder first, where a tiny smattering of barely-there freckles lay just below the juncture of his neck. He outlined Dean’s neck, his ear, his hair. And then the features on his face; his eyes closed, with sandy brown lashes fanned out against his cheeks, and a smooth sleep-relaxed brow above. He drew the small curvature at the bridge of Dean’s nose, following down to where half of his nose and mouth were hidden by the pillow clutched in his grip. Just as Castiel started drawing the plush cupid bow of Dean’s upper lip, the sleeping boy started pawing at the sheets.

“Cas?” he whispered, voice thick in his semi-conscious state. He squinted up at Cas, frowning. “What’re you doin’?”

Castiel just smiled at him and nudged him lightly with his foot. “I’m just drawing, Dean. Go back to sleep.”

Dean leaned forward, gripping Cas’ ankle with one hand and using his other arm to prop himself up. “You drawing me while I sleep?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Castiel flushed and set his sketchpad on the desk. “I…yes. Does that bother you? I can stop, you were just so peaceful and I wanted to—“

“Cas,” Dean interrupted. “I don’t mind.”

Castiel smiled. “I can come back to sleep now, if you want. I mean, I’ll keep drawing if you‘re okay with it, but if you wanted me to come back to bed…I would. I would come to bed.”

Dean looked at him for a moment and then dropped back down, placing his head back on his pillow. Castiel sighed and resigned himself to the rejection he felt. And then Dean’s hand on his ankle became softer, and the fingers started tracing their way up his leg, stopping midway up his thigh. Dean had barely touched him and he was already half-hard in his boxers, this having been the most intimately Dean had touched him in over a month. Castiel let his own fingers slip down to Dean’s, and Dean instantly wove their hands together and tugged Castiel forward.

“Come to bed, Cas,” Dean whispered.

And then it was like the last five weeks had never happened. Castiel’s body slid over Dean’s with practiced ease, settling between Dean’s now open thighs and letting his arms trap Dean’s head between them. Dean’s hands were on him, one palming roughly at his ass and the other digging nails lightly in the meat of his shoulder. Their kisses were hurried and filthy, a mad amount of exertion behind each slide of lips. After only seconds of tongues tangling and hips circling frantically in search of friction, Dean started yanking at Castiel’s pants, trying with no regard for gracefulness, to get Castiel naked. He wiggled his hips to help get the garment over the curve of his backside and kicked them off of his legs. Once naked, he sat back on his knees, cock hanging heavy and unsatisfied between his thighs. He and Dean both went for the waistband of Dean’s pajama pants, and together they managed to throw them, and his boxer briefs, off into the room as well. Dean pulled him back down immediately, crushing their lips together and wrapping his legs around Castiel’s hips. Castiel couldn’t help the moan he let out, finally feeling Dean’s skin sliding against his after weeks was like a shot of pure adrenaline. He rubbed their groins together as they kissed, their cocks sliding side-by-side as they thrust into one another’s space. Dean, after having sucked a fresh mark into Castiel’s neck, wrapped his arm around Castiel and flipped them. He allowed himself to be pushed back into the mattress by Dean, who leaned over to the drawer by the bed and dug through to find lube and a condom. He never let his lips stray from Castiel’s, even when the tell-tale click of the lubricant cap opened, Dean still hovered over Castiel, kissing him for all he was worth. Dean’s hips started stuttering soon, and his breathing grew harsher. Castiel was swallowing moan after moan while Dean busied his fingers opening himself up with quick precision. Castiel was impatient after being refused the closeness for so long, so his hands fumbled, seeking out the bottle of lube, and slicking up two of his own fingers when he found it. He let his clean hand grip into the short hair at the nape of Dean’s neck while his slicked fingers joined Dean’s at his opening. Dean let out a small grunt of pain and faltered at the stretch of two more fingers, but he quickly regained his rhythm.

“Condom,” he breathed. “Now.”

Castiel nodded and tore at the foil package, quickly rolling the latex down his length and slicking himself up. Dean wasted no time, resituating himself directly over Castiel’s cock and impaling himself in one swift move.

“Shit,” he groaned, voice cracking.

Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s thighs, waiting for him to move and fighting the urge to grab him by the waist and fuck up into the tight heat of his body. He didn’t have to wait long though, because once Dean’s body began to adjust he went from zero to sixty, slamming his hips down and riding Castiel like it was the last thing he’d ever do. He was arched forward, hands braced on the wall, as profanities flew from his lips and Castiel’s hands grabbed at his skin. There were angry red crescent-shaped marks on both of Dean’s hips where Castiel’s fingernails had been at first breach, and pink stripes lined all down his back and sides.

“Not, _ungh fuck,_ not gonna last long, Dean,” Castiel ground out between labored breaths.

Dean just nodded, eyes closed tight as he swiveled his hips in Castiel’s lap. He released his hands from the wall, bringing one down to steady himself at Castiel’s chest, and Castiel quickly covered Dean’s hand with one of his own, squeezing his fingers lightly, desperately. Dean’s other hand settled on his own neglected cock, stripping it quickly as he chased his orgasm. The only warning Castiel got before Dean was coming, splattering across his own hands and Castiel’s chest, was the slight tremble in his thighs and the short, high pitched keen that escaped from Dean’s kiss-bruised lips. When Dean came, his muscles clamped tight, trapping Castiel inside of him and forcing him to topple over the edge right behind him, releasing a guttural groan as a spilled into the condom.

Dean crumpled after a few seconds, letting his body fall onto Castiel’s, and Castiel just wrapped his arms around Dean as he shook while his muscles calmed. There were voices still drifting in quietly from the show playing beside them, but neither boy paid the show any mind. With a slight wince, Dean finally lifted himself up off of Castiel’s softening cock. Castiel remove the condom and grabbed some tissues from the desk, gently cleaning both of them with quick movements. They settled back down into the bed, facing one another.

Dean broke the silence first, lurching forward and clinging to Castiel’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry, Cas, I am. Will you go to sleep with me? I’m so tired.”

Castiel just wrapped his arms around Dean and settled down, burying his face into his neck and breathing deep. He still didn’t know what made Dean so distant, but right then it didn’t matter. Maybe they would talk about it tomorrow, or next week, or just someday. But it was over and that was good enough.


	32. Chapter 32

Looking back, after weeks of starving himself of Cas’ touch, Dean thought that perhaps his reaction to his guilt was a bit silly. He still felt bad that he’d looked through Cas’ things, something Cas had asked him not to do many times, but maybe forcing himself to be celibate for over a month was a bit of an overreaction. It wasn’t like he’d cheated on Cas or physically harmed him, but at the time it felt like he might as well have. The guilt of looking at his own face, expertly drawn with reverent details, it pitted itself in Dean’s stomach, and having let himself be fucked by Castiel immediately after he’d gone behind his back just solidified the heavy ball of shame inside of him. For weeks he pretended that nothing was wrong, but denied himself the pleasure of Cas’ touch. It was hard, god fucking damn was it hard, but he felt he didn’t deserve Cas’ hands on him. Dean had almost hit a breaking point when they went for coffee and the new barista started eyeing Cas like a piece of meat to be devoured. From the second they walked into the Mean Bean, the blonde behind the counter glued his eyes to Cas’ lithe frame and didn’t care one bit that Dean was even present. He was irate, rageful, and he wanted to drag Castiel back to his dorm room and spell his name across Cas’ chest in hickeys, then throw him on the bed and ride him so hard that Cas would never be able to speak anyone’s name but his. But he tamped that down, leveled the blonde douchebag with a glare and led Cas out calmly.

His birthday celebration with his parents had been painful to say the least. He wanted Cas to be there. He wanted Cas to sit at the table with him while they all ate his birthday apple pie with vanilla ice cream and teased him about getting older. Cas fit so nicely by his side and so perfectly with Dean’s family, it was like a dream. Dean was an absolute train wreck the entire weekend without him. Cas had told him that he was going to his parent’s house, and he couldn’t argue. Now that his dad had stopped being a coward, Cas needed to spend all the time with him that he could. So he let him go without argument.

It was Valentine’s Day when things finally came to a head. He and Cas had gone to a night time exhibit at the zoo that was held every year on Valentine’s Day, and the date was perfect. They got to handle the smaller, more tame animals, and Cas had squealed in delight when a tiny leopard gecko tried to make a new home in his sleeve. The pathway through the zoo, where all the couples were led by group leaders, were lined with tiny, colorful tealight candles. The flickering tips of light cast flashes and shadows over the beautiful vegetation on the path and created a dizzyingly romantic atmosphere. He held tightly onto Cas’ hand as they walked through, gazing at the nocturnal animals that had come out of hiding. It was a perfect date.

That night they had gone to bed with Netflix playing in the background. Cas was tucked up behind him, hand splayed chastely across his midsection. It was the first night that Dean had actually realized that Cas had given up on initiating any kind of intimacy weeks ago. The heavy ache in his gut began to come back, but soon enough Cas’ steady breathing lulled him to sleep. It was a fitful and unrestful sleep, what little he got, and not more than an hour later he was tugged into consciousness by the near-silent sound of pencil scratching on paper. When his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light still coming from the computer, he saw Cas curled in his desk chair with his feet propped up on the bed and his sketchpad on his lap. Cas was drawing. After a few quietly exchanged words, Dean found out that Cas was drawing _him_. This only served to remind Dean why he’d felt so badly in the first place; it made him want to apologize again and again for invading Cas’ privacy, but no words came out. He just stared at Cas until he spoke, and what he said gave Dean near-painful heart palpitations.

“ _If you wanted me to come back to bed…I would. I would come to bed._ ”

And it dawned on Dean just then, with the earnest hope in Cas’ eyes, and the way his whole body had arched forward toward Dean, that what he was doing was wrong. He was denying himself Cas’ touch as punishment, but it wasn’t just he who was being punished. Cas was starving for a graze of fingertips, and his words broke through every wall Dean had built in the last five weeks. He would come back to bed. After weeks and weeks of Dean avoiding his lips, his fingertips, his affection; he would still come back to bed, back to Dean, without question. And all Dean had to do was ask.

He reached out to Cas then, and as soon as their bodies slotted together it was like the entire universe had righted itself. The guilt, the shame, everything was gone. He felt safe with Cas; needed, loved, wanted, and it was the cure-all he’d been looking for to take care of the heavy weight of uncertainty that had found home in his chest. After that night, Cas didn’t ask him to talk about their dry spell. He didn’t push him, and Dean didn’t pull him in either. Things went back to the way they were for weeks. They were happy and affectionate, it was bliss. They kept their routine, going out for coffee together, having dinners alone in their dorms, lazily making out on the quad on the few occasions that it was empty in the early morning. They studied for midterms together and they both passed with flying colors. They even attended a St. Patrick’s Day party at Benny’s frathouse, where they both got properly drunk and had a quickie in the upstairs bathroom. Things were just _right_ again.

It was the last week of March when the next surprise in Dean’s life came. He and Cas were having a movie night in his dorm, Chuck having become a rare sight over the past months since he’d met Becky, and Cas had excused himself to go down the hall to the community bathroom. It was only a few seconds after Cas left when a knock sounded on Dean’s door.

Cas would have just walked back in, and he wasn’t expecting company so he frowned slightly before getting up to answer. When he flung the door open, what he did not expect to see was his little brother.

Sam was grinning, his shaggy hair windswept and wild like he’d run all the way up the stairs. He was gripping a sheet of paper in his hand and breathing heavily.

“Sammy? What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, grinning back at his brother. “ _How_ in the hell are you here?”

Sam just smiled wider. “Mom let me borrow her car so I could tell you in person.”

“Tell me what?”

Sam laughed wetly, his eyes beginning to brim with tears of excitement, ready to burst at any moment. He shoved the paper into Dean’s hands before he spoke. “I got in, Dean,” he said, eyes wide and ecstatic. “It was a late acceptance, but I did it. I got into Stanford.”


	33. Chapter 33

Whatever it was that had been bothering Dean, they still hadn’t talked about. Castiel had damn near forgotten about the slip-up in their relationship anyway, focusing instead on how perfect things had been since then. They had both passed their midterms, school was going swimmingly, their weekly routines were comforting and not constricting, and their intimacy levels were through the roof. Things were good again. He and Dean were having a movie night in Dean’s room at the end of March, and halfway through _The Rum Diaries_ Castiel had paused the movie to use the restroom around the corner in Dean’s residence hall. He was rounding the corner back to Dean’s room when he saw Sam hovering outside the open door.

“I got into Stanford!” he heard Sam say. Dean’s arms immediately swept his younger brother into a hug, and Castiel backed himself around the corner again to give them a moment of privacy in this big moment.

He smiled widely to himself. Sam was a brilliant young man and he deserved this. Castiel was enormously happy for the boy who had become something of a surrogate younger brother to himself.

“You’ll still come, right?” Sam’s voice asked, sounding slightly insecure. Castiel’s ears perked up at this. “You always said we’d go together if I got in, Dean, did you mean it? Mom and Dad were going to get us an apartment together here anyway and I got a full scholarship at Stanford. There’s a bunch of community colleges in the area you could transfer to. I already talked to them about it and they said if you still wanted to go they’d help us pay for a place still. I mean, I could like, I could live in the dorms if you don’t want to—“

“No,” Dean cut him off with a small laugh. “No way, man, I’m in. Hell yeah we’re going together, Sammy!”

Castiel felt his stomach drop. Dean was leaving, just like that? He didn’t even stop to think about his entire life in Kansas; his education, his family, his friends, _Castiel_. He felt his insides clench painfully. Michael was right. Dean hadn’t even given him a second thought before saying yes. He found a way out of Kansas and he was going to take it.

“I did it, Dean,” he heard Sam mumble, then sniffle, like he was starting to tear up. “I really did it.”

“I’m proud of you, kid,” said Dean. There was a slight shuffling and the sound of bills sliding together and being counted out before he continued. “Take that and, uh, how about you go to that Chinese place up the road and buy us all some grub to celebrate and you can join in on movie night.”

“Yeah,” Sam responded. “Yeah alright, I’ll be back!”

There was loud, quick stomping headed the opposite way as Sam raced back out of the building and Castiel slid down the wall to sit as soon as he heard Dean’s door shut. He stared at his hands on his knees, his mind unable to absorb the last five minutes. He should be upset or furious, or even crying, but he just felt…nothing.

He took one last deep breath and rose, walking slowly back to Dean’s dorm. He let himself in, only to be enveloped in a bone-crushing hug as soon as the door was shut.

“Oof!” he choked out, Dean’s arms forcing the breath out of him as he lifted him off the ground.

“Sammy got into Stanford!” Dean shouted excitedly, before putting Castiel back on his feet.

“I heard,” Castiel responded quietly. Dean was grinning widely at him, his smile only faltering slightly when he noticed that Castiel wasn’t smiling back. “So you’re moving to California?”

Dean frowned for a moment, obviously confused at Castiel’s lack of enthusiasm, but things fell into place rather quickly and his face fell. “Cas, I…oh, shit.”

Castiel laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, oh shit.”

“Sammy, he uh, he’s dreamt about this for a long time,” Dean’s eyes were on the floor as he spoke. “He decided that he wanted to go to Stanford when he was like twelve, the little nerd. We’ve been close our whole lives, you know, and I used to promise him all the time that if he got in I’d go to California with him.”

“I see. I’m happy for him,” Castiel said quietly. “And you, I suppose.”

Dean was twisting his fingers together, frowning down at them. “He told me last year that he didn’t have enough extracurriculars to get in. I didn’t even know he applied, Cas, I swear I didn’t,” Dean finally looked back up at him, his features schooled into something pained. “He…he has a full ride there. I mean, I could stay here and he can live in the dorms and—“

“Don’t,” Castiel interjected. “He’s your brother, Dean. You should go.”

Dean’s eyes shifted around the room, panicky, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I just…Cas, you could come too. Come with us, there’s plenty of places to go to school in California.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t want to go to California, Dean. My life is here, my family and my friends are here.”

“I bet you’d love it there, Cas,” Dean said, almost pleading now. He took a step forward as he spoke. “The art scene there is great and they have a shit ton of great art schools out there.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m not going to school for art, Dean. KU has a phenomenal Religious Studies program and that’s why I chose this college.”

Dean growled in frustration. “Why, Cas? You are such a great fucking artist and you could thrive at CalArts or something.”

Castiel just scoffed at him. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Dean.”

“Yes, I do, Cas!” he yelled. “I’ve seen what you can do. I saw that sketchbook full of your mythology drawings, and the pictures you sketched of the Impala, of the racetrack, and of _me_. Cas, you’re great, man, I don’t know how you can’t see that.”

Castiel felt like he’d been slapped in the face. He took a step back from Dean. The anger that had been missing before was finally seeping into him, and he could feel a hot redness creep up into his cheeks. “You…you looked through my things? When?”

Dean flushed and crossed his arms, shrinking in on himself. “Winter break,” he whispered guiltily. “The last day before we came home. I, uh, I looked at the book while you were in the shower.”

Castiel’s mind wandered back three months to the time Dean was referring to and he remembered. He had gone to shower, and when he came back to the bedroom they had sex before going to sleep.

“So you looked through my things, my private things, like I had asked you not to do several times and then you decided not to tell me? Oh, and you let me fuck you afterward. Is that right?”

Dean flinched. “It’s not like I didn’t feel bad afterward, okay? I couldn’t even let you touch me for weeks without feeling like shit for what I did.”

“ _That_ is why you didn’t touch me for over a month?” Castiel asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You made me sick worrying that I’d done something wrong, Dean, but you couldn’t touch me because _you_ felt guilty?”

Dean was breathing heavily, and so was he, both staring at each other from their places across the room. The air was thick around them, filled to the brim with tension and unvoiced thoughts.

Dean was the first of them to break, taking another step toward Castiel and reaching out to lightly grasp his wrist. “I’m sorry, Cas, I am. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I won’t apologize for trying to help push you into something you deserve; something you’re _great_ at. Art school would be—“

“No!” Castiel growled, wrenching his arm out of Dean’s grip. “Why won’t you listen to me, Dean? I am not going to attend art school; not here and not in California. You can’t just sweet talk people into doing the things you want them to do.”

“I’m not—“

“Yes, you are. You cannot just push and push and push until people mold themselves into something that works for you, Dean. Not everything is about what you want.”

“Damn it, Cas, would you just let me finish a fucking sentence already?” Dean shouted, his calmness finally breaking as well. “I just want what’s best for you, okay?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel responded, deflating. “You want what’s best for you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my brother was right about you.”

Dean recoiled like he’d been hit, his eyes growing wide and eyebrows slanting in anger. “Excuse me?”

“You do whatever you want without thinking of the consequences or who else it will affect. Like looking through someone’s things, or deciding to move to California without even speaking to your boyfriend,” Dean looked down at that, shoulders slumping. Castiel knew what he was about to say was a low blow, but he kept on going. “I should have known, because you’re a racer. You put your friends and your little brother at risk every weekend at illegal drag races so you could have an adrenaline high.”

Dean’s head shot up. His eyes were brimmed with tears that were refusing to fall and he let out one long, shuddering breath and nodded slowly. Sam was his weakness and Castiel knew that. The night that the cops had come to the track, Dean almost made himself ill with worry when he thought about how  badly things could have gone if Sam had been caught up in that and Castiel had just used that against him.

Castiel blinked back a few tears of his own and grabbed his jacket off of the end of Chuck’s bed. “I…I should go.”

He put the jacket on and started toward the door, but a hand shot out and grabbed his forearm.

“Cas,” Dean whispered.

Castiel looked up at him, not speaking.

“Just, I don’t know, we can do something, Cas,” Dean said in a shaky voice. “I mean, there’s like skype and cell phones, and I can come back and visit.”

A small series of tears finally escaped from Castiel’s eyes then as he shook his head slowly. Even after the horrible things Castiel had just said to him, Dean was still trying to find a way to make them work together. But he just couldn’t.

“That’s not fair, Dean, to either of us. I can’t.”

Dean backed up slowly until his knees hit his bed. He sat down at the edge of the mattress with his head in his hands. “So, that’s it then?” he asked.

Castiel nodded even though he knew Dean wasn’t looking. “I-I wish circumstances were different.”

Dean looked up, a slight tremble in his lip. “We can’t even…I don’t know, be friends?”

Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. “Not now, Dean. I just need some time. Please tell Sam I said congratulations.”

When Castiel’s hand turned the doorknob, he heard a choked off sob behind him. “C’mon, Cas, don’t,” Dean ground out, his voice wavering. Castiel wasn’t looking at him, but the wet tone of Dean’s voice and the small sniffling sounds made it clear that Dean had finally started crying. “You can’t leave, Cas, I—“

Dean stopped and Castiel froze. _Say it, Dean,_ he silently dared. _Tell me that you love me and I’ll go anywhere with you._

“—I….I need you to stay, Cas, please.”

And that was it. Castiel opened the door slowly and turned to Dean, apologizing quietly one last time before fleeing down the hallway. He couldn’t recall leaving Dean’s building, the walk across campus, or getting into his own room, but next thing he knew he was lying face-down in his pillow to muffle his screams. He only stopped when he heard the door to his room open.

“You okay, bro?”

Castiel removed his face from his pillow and looked up to see his roommate standing in front of him with a bag from the local bakery in one hand and a textbook in the other. He stared, unable to think of what to say, because this was the first time in nearly two years he had actually heard the other boy speak. He didn’t blame the other boy for looking at him like he was insane. He had to be quite the sight just then; curled in the fetal position on his bed with disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes.

“So, you do exist,” Castiel said finally. “I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination.”

“Nah,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. He set his things down and ran his hands through his honey brown hair. “I just take a lot of credit hours and I work a lot. My hours got cut a few months ago, but you and your manfriend have been spending a lot of time here. I tried to make myself scarce and give you some privacy.”

Castiel immediately felt guilty. “I apologize. You didn’t have to stay away. This is your room as well.” His roommate waved his hand dismissively, but Castiel continued. “Well, I promise that will no longer be an issue.”

The other boy understood quickly and his face school into an expression of sympathy. He then picked up the paper bag he’d been holding and tossed it to Castiel. “They’re chocolate éclairs. I made ‘em myself,” he said with a small smile. “Sugar helps the heart heal. Proven fact.”

Castiel let out a small laugh, but as soon as the sound left his throat it turned into a sob. A handful more tears escaped from the corners of his eyes and he swiped at them quickly, trying to regulate his breathing before the full-on wailing could start up again.

His roommate sat down on the bed next to him and sighed. “Maybe it isn’t just chocolate you need.”

“What do you mean?” he asked miserably.

The other boy dug his hand into his pocket and produced a small metal case. He opened it and plucked something out between his fingers before shutting it and shoving it back in his pocket. He lifted the object up for Castiel’s inspection. It was a joint.

“Feel free to say no if you’re not into this kinda thing,” he said. “But I think you could really use something to help you relax.”

Castiel deliberated for a moment. He’d never smoked marijuana before, but he had never really been against it either. He just shrugged and then wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “I know we’ve been living together for a long time, but I actually do not know your name.”

His roommate laughed and waved a hand again before standing up to open their dorm window. “Don’t worry about it, bro. I don’t know yours either. I’m Gabriel.”

Castiel lifted the corners of his mouth for a moment, giving as much of a smile as he could at the moment. “I’m Castiel.”

 Gabriel beckoned him over and they sat together on top of the desk, directly beneath the wide open window. Gabriel produced a lighter from one of his many pockets and looked at Castiel. “Well,” he started, flicking the lighter and holding the joint to his lips. “Here’s to single life, yeah?”

He took a large hit and passed the joint to Castiel.

 _Well. Here’s to life without Dean Winchester,_ he thought. He put the rolled paper to his lips and inhaled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already sense all of you coming after me with torches and pitchforks. I AM SO SORRY. THIS WAS PAINFUL FOR ME TO WRITE.
> 
> ALSO: Important update, SOPA internet censorship bills are starting to come back and this time they're attacking liberties with copyrighted works. Anything streaming on the internet that is taken from copyrighted works (movies, television shows, etc) the creator can be charged with a felony and thrown in jail, so that means that even with a written disclaimer acknowledging that Supernatural (for example) isn't yours, if you draw a picture of Dean Winchester, write a destiel fanfiction, or anything like it...you could be charged with a felony. So make sure to educate yourself and each other, and if you so choose (which I really hope you do) go sign the petition against this bill!
> 
> https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/stop-sopa-2013/LMzMVrQF


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam is pretty much OOC in this fic, and I know I could have chosen someone else for his role, but for some reason in my head I could only see Adam. He's more like Ghoul!Adam if anything, I guess. 
> 
> Also, the way this chapter is set up is sort of choppy, but that's because instead of covering only a few days in their lives like I usually do, this covers the space of four months. I tried to make it the least confusing as I possibly could.

For a week after the breakup, Castiel’s phone was buzzing off the hook. The night it happened, after he had gotten thoroughly obliterated with Gabriel, Sam called him nine times in a row before finally realizing that Castiel wouldn’t answer and settled for a series of texts.

**[Sam W: Please answer the phone Cas]**

**[Sam W: Come on man. Dean told me what happened]**

**[Sam W: I’m really sorry about all of this. I was so excited about getting in that I wasn’t thinking about anything else]**

**[Sam W: Please answer Cas. Dean is just…he’s not okay right now. I never wanted this to happen]**

**[Sam W: Alright, I guess you just want to be left alone. I really am sorry.]**

He shut his phone off immediately after reading Sam’s text messages and hurled it against the wall by his bed, startling Gabriel, making him laugh and spew chocolate éclair crumbs out of his mouth. Castiel laughed too, even though he didn’t want to. The day had started so well and then it turned out to be the worst day of his life; worse than being bullied by his family for being gay, worse than being assaulted by Crowley. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him paled in comparison to losing Dean.

Despite the sadness still roiling through his bones, he looked at Gabriel and gave him a lazy, pot-addled grin.

**~*~APRIL~*~**

The largest change in Castiel’s life, aside from being without Dean, was Gabriel. Gabriel was the type of friend that Castiel had never had before. He hadn’t been jogging in town or out to the Mean Bean in weeks, not wanting to risk seeing Dean, so Gabriel would always make the coffee runs. His roommate had a class at an ungodly early hour each day, so while he was out at class Castiel would utilize the small gym on campus. Most days, Gabriel would pick them both up a large cup of strong, sweet coffee on the way home and they’d sit on the desk by the window and drink coffee while sharing a few hits from Gabriel’s latest stash. Then Castiel would be off to classes, Gabriel too, and they’d do it all over again the next morning. Gabriel listened, and offered pharmaceutical or sugary help, every time Castiel had a breakdown about Dean, until eventually the breakdowns just stopped coming. Gabriel took him to parties off campus with his work friends, and they walked to their afternoon classes together. He was the closest thing that Castiel ever had to a best friend. He still saw Chuck occasionally, usually passing by him on the way to a class, but the friendly looks that Chuck would throw him were still laced with sympathy over his and Dean’s separation.

Nearly a month after the breakup, Gabriel was running late on his way back from classes because he had to hang back and talk to his professor, so he called Castiel.

“Can you run up and get coffee today?” He asked

Castiel sighed into the phone. “I…can’t we just make it in the dorm today?”

“We don’t even have coffee right now, man,” Gabriel replied. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“What if he’s there, Gabriel,” Castiel asked. “I know I’m doing better, but I’m still not ready to see him yet.”

He could practically _feel_ Gabriel’s eye roll over the phone. “Cas, bro, Dean hasn’t been there _once_ since I’ve started getting coffee there. And now, thanks to you, I like the coffee at that place. So, yes, you have to go; and yes, you’ll be _fine._ ”

“Fine,” Castiel grumbled and hung up. It was only eight in the morning, so the chances of running into Dean were fairly slim, if not nonexistent.

He was still in his workout clothes, so he jogged his way to the Mean Bean. Since he started using the campus gym, he’d graduated himself from just running, to running and occasionally lifting weights. It had only been a few weeks, but he could already see faint lines of definition appearing on his arms and shoulders and he was very pleased with himself. Life wasn’t a romantic comedy, but he was afraid that once they’d broken up, he would dive into a deep depression and become a cliché, eating ice cream and lazing around the dorms with no motivation to continue living. In reality, though, separating from Dean only motivated him more, to be better and stronger; to keep on going despite how shitty he was feeling inside. Dean was going to go to California and start a whole new life, so he was going to move on too.

When he got to the café, he opened the door slowly and discreetly peeked around sitting area to make sure Dean wasn’t there. The only others in the place were two girls, talking animatedly to one another over a few drinks that were heavy with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. He shuddered at the thought of drinking something so heavy so early in the morning. When he made his way to the counter, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was Adam; the same barista that Dean had said was staring at Castiel the last time they went to the Mean Bean together.

He gave the blonde barista a small smile and ordered two large coffees.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” Adam said to him as he poured the coffee into two to-go cups. He smiled at Castiel as he slid the cups over to him. “You and your boyfriend been getting your coffee from somewhere else these days?”

Castiel handed Adam the money for the coffee and shook his head. “No, we…we broke up.”

Adam immediately tried to school his features into a sympathetic expression, but Castiel saw his eyes light up with interest. “That’s too bad.”

Castiel just shrugged. “It was time, I suppose.”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Adam responded with a smile.

Castiel nodded and went to the sidecart to add his and Gabriel’s correct amount of sugar and cream. Once he was finished, he turned to Adam one last time waved. “Have a good day,” he said politely.

Adam waved back and gave him a not-so-subtle onceover with a surprisingly hungry look. “You too,” the blonde responded with a wink. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Castiel smiled and felt himself blushing as he left the café. Clearly Dean had been right when he said Adam was ogling him. It was a shocking, almost unwelcome thought, despite the fact that Adam _was_ very attractive. It just didn’t seem right to think about other people that way yet, and he told Gabriel as much when he finally got back to their room. Gabriel, of course, was ecstatic.

“Why aren’t you thrilled?” He asked after taking a huge gulp of his super-sweet coffee. “I mean, I’m not into dudes or anything, but that guy’s got the whole ‘blonde-haired-blue-eyed-fair-skinned-hunk’ thing going on, so what’s the issue here?”

Castiel just rolled his eyes and drained his coffee cup, eager to leave and take a shower. He grabbed his things and made his way out of the room, but Gabriel’s voice stopped him right before he could shut their door.

“It couldn’t hurt, you know,” Gabriel called out to him.

Castiel turned back and frowned. “What couldn’t?”

Gabriel hefted himself on the desk and opened the window. “Flirting with Coffee Boy, maybe even going on a few dates and getting freaky with him a time or two. After all,” he continued. “Sometimes the best way to forget…is to replace.”

Castiel smiled. Gabriel, for all that he was a sugar-high pothead, was actually surprisingly intelligent. “Sound advice,” he replied, and then pointed to the joint in Gabriel’s hand. “Save some of that for me.”

Gabriel just shooed him away with a laugh.

**~*~MAY~*~**

It was two weeks into May when Castiel finally saw Dean again for the first time since their breakup. He was walking across the campus to his Life Drawing class with Gabriel, who had a class in the same building, when he saw Dean. The campus was crowded, some kind of rally was going on, but he could see Dean a few yards away. He was sitting under a tree with Benny, tossing a bottle of Gatorade back and forth in his hands. They spotted each at almost the same moment and they both froze. Castiel quit walking, Dean’s gaze becoming like a tractor beam, and the bottle dropped right out of Dean’s hand and onto the ground. Dean’s lips pressed together as he looked at Cas; it wasn’t an unfriendly face, but not exactly welcoming either.

Gabriel finally noticed that Castiel hadn’t moved, and he grabbed his forearm, urging him forward because they were going to be late. Dean’s eyes flicked down to where Gabriel’s hand was resting on his arm and he frowned. He saw Dean swallow thickly before meeting Castiel’s eyes again. He gave Castiel a pained smile, one that came off looking more like a grimace, and finally turned away. Castiel’s trance broke once Dean was no longer staring him down and he allowed Gabriel to drag him to their building.

After his first post-breakup trip back to the Mean Bean, he took Gabriel’s encouragement and openly engaged in some light flirting with Adam. He saw him two or three times a week and they would share smiles, Adam would throw flirty winks his way, and if the café was empty enough, they’d lean on the counter and talk with their faces close together and their hands nearly touching. It wasn’t enough though, and seeing Dean that afternoon had proved it to him. Once his class let out, Castiel walked the short distance into town and headed for the Mean Bean, hoping Adam was working.

He was pleasantly surprised when he walked in and the first thing he saw was Adam wiping down the counters. The barista looked up when the chime on the door rang, and he grinned when he saw Castiel. Castiel returned the smile and made his way up to the register

“What can I get for you today, Cas?” Adam asked, leaning over the counter toward him.

Castiel put on a calm, cool façade and leaned in as well, his face hovering only inches away from Adam’s. “Your phone number,” he responded, letting his eyes travel slowly down to Adam’s lips and back.

Adam smirked at him and backed up, grabbing an empty cup from the side of the counter. Castiel raised an eyebrow at him as he poured coffee into the cup and placed a lid on top. The blonde then grabbed a marker from by the register and scribbled something on the side of the cup before handing it to Castiel.

“Coffee’s on me today,” he said.

Castiel looked down at the cup and a phone number was written on the side. He grinned at Adam and bit his lip before giving the boy a small wave and making his way out of the café. He texted Adam a few hours later, asking him when he got off work, and they made plans to meet that night to watch movies in Cas’ dorm. Gabriel, before leaving for the night, gave him a double thumbs up and tossed a brand new box of condoms at him with an exaggerated wink.

The movie was fine, a little awkward at first, but it took most of the film before the two of them finally came together in some semblance of cuddling rather than sitting ramrod straight at each other’s sides. They put on a second movie directly after the first, but they spent more time talking than paying attention to what was on the computer screen. Castiel found out that, regardless of him being about three inches taller than Castiel, Adam was only nineteen, and he hadn’t yet decided if he wanted to go to college or not. He worked full-time at the café and lived with an old high school friend named Gordon in a small, two bedroom apartment downtown. He asked Castiel about himself as well, but only a few sentences into a small discussion about his major, he noticed Adam’s gaze wandering from his eyes to his lips. Adam wanted to kiss him, he knew it, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted to kiss Adam. It had been almost two months since he and Dean broke up, but the thought of being with someone else besides Dean was still like a fresh, open wound. That had to stop; he had to forget, to replace. So with a surge of confidence, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Adam’s, who responded immediately. He brought deft fingers up to cup Castiel’s jaw and then smooth it back into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Adam was very sure in his kisses, like he’d had a lot of practice and experience, and Castiel quickly melted into the embrace. A hurtful, nagging mantra of _Dean, Dean, No, Stop, Dean, DEAN_ was thudding in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away in favor of pushing Adam back into the mattress. It felt all wrong, but he never told Adam to stop. Castiel told Adam that it hurt him to bottom, but Adam swore he was experienced enough to make it good for Castiel, so he tried. A sick sense of déjà vu fell over him when Adam had two fingers pressed inside his body and a sharp, stinging pain shot up his spine. He asked Adam to stop, but he said it was normal for it to hurt first and feel good later. Castiel just nodded and bit his lip, enduring the pain for a little while longer. When it didn’t let up, even minutes later, he grabbed Adam’s wrist and pushed him away, suggesting that maybe Adam should bottom. Adam just chuckled at him and shook his head.

“No way, Cas,” he said. “I’m definitely not a bottom.”

Castiel frowned and chewed on his bottom lip. “Maybe, um, I could just go down on you or something?”

Adam’s face fell and he shrugged on shoulder. “I dunno. I mean, are you sure it’s really that bad, man? It’s, like, supposed to hurt your first time bottoming.”

He was losing interest quickly and Castiel was beginning to panic. He had to do this. He had to get rid of Dean. So he picked up the lube and thrust it back into Adam’s hand.

“Try again,” he said in a shaky voice.

He braced himself for the pain, more intense this time after he’d gotten a break from the onslaught of fingers. He choked down the grunts of pain that threatened to spill past his lips as Adam stuffed two fingers back into him. Soon enough, a third finger joined and he let his head drop back while his body silently trembled in pain. Adam, however, took the sudden limpness of his neck as a good sign, despite the fact that Castiel’s own cock lay limp and motionless against his skin.

“See?” he whispered. “You’re just fine, babe.”

The blonde grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it down his length, thankfully slathering on a ton of lubricant. Castiel let out a tiny mewl of pain when Adam breached him, lifting his hand up to his face so he could bite at his knuckles. When Adam bottomed out, he gave Castiel a few moments to adjust before setting a speedy pace that sent pain throbbing throughout his backside. It was over relatively quick, and for that Castiel was grateful. Adam was breathing heavily, leaning over Castiel as he slowly pulled out, and leaving only extreme soreness behind.

Adam flopped down next to Castiel, flinging the condom over the edge of the bed. When he looked back at Castiel, he saw his still-flaccid cock and nodded toward it. “You didn’t, uh, you know…”

Castiel shook his head. “No, not this time.”

Adam sighed and visibly chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking like he was deliberating. Finally he brought his hand over to brush the skin above Castiel’s bellybutton. “I guess I could, like, help you out or something if you want me to.”

He honestly wasn’t sure how much more physical touch he could take from Adam at the moment so he just shrugged. “It’s okay, really. I actually have to study for finals tonight, so…”

Adam nodded and bounced his way down the bed to grab his clothes. He dressed quickly and turned to Castiel, who was still laying naked on the bed.

“So, call me if you wanna have some fun again, yeah?”

Castiel nodded at him and returned the quick kiss that Adam planted on his lips before making his way out of the room. It took thirty minutes for the worst of the soreness to fade, so Castiel lay in his bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling and feeling weighted down by the force of what he’d just done. As soon as he trusted his legs to work, he threw on some very loose pajamas and made his way to the showers down the hall. That night when he was in bed, almost consumed by sleep, the only thing he could think about was the dull ache that still coursed through his body. He’d succeeded in forgetting about Dean, replacing him not with Adam, but with an agonizing physical discomfort.

He was teetering on the edge of Dreamland when his phone chirped from his nightstand. With bleary eyes, he flipped open the phone to see a new text message.

**[Sam W: Dean doesn’t think you’ll care, but I just thought you should know that we found out when we’re leaving.]**

Castiel sucked in a harsh breath. Dean and Sam had set a moving date. They were really leaving. He resisted the urge to throw the phone his phone across the room (again) and hit _reply._

**_[When?]_ **

**[Sam W: July 24th]**

Two months and it would all be over.

**~*~June~*~**

Castiel didn’t seek out Adam again after their encounter, but they still texted a few times a week and Castiel saw him at the Mean Bean when he went to get coffee. Adam had even tried to sext him once when he was drunk, but Castiel pretended to pass out and ignored the technological sexual advances and lewd pictures the blonde was sending.

He passed his finals and slid into Spring semester without another mention or sighting of Dean since Sam’s text. Despite the plethora of required courses he could have chosen from, Castiel enrolled in Art History and a beginner’s Painting class that was taught by his previous Drawing professor. After his first class, the professor, Ms. Pamela Barnes, asked him to hang back after class.

After all of the other students filed out, Castiel wandered up to her desk, his hands nervously wringing the straps of his backpack. “You wanted to see me?”

Ms. Barnes smiled up at him as she took off the smock she wore over her clothes. “Yes, I did. Castiel, right?”

He nodded.

“You’ve been in several of my art classes here, but I noticed on your information sheet that you aren’t an art major.”

“No, Ma’am. I’m majoring in Religious Studies.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re talented, Castiel.”

He shrugged, letting his eyes drift to the floor. “It’s more of a hobby,” he mumbled.

“Well, do you enjoy art?” She asked.

He nodded again.

“What about religion?” she questioned. “Do you enjoy what you’re studying?”

“I grew up in a very religious household,” he replied finally meeting her eyes again. “My father and my grandfather are both nationally recognized teachers of Christian religion and spirituality, so this is what I know.”

Ms. Barnes leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms. “It’s what you know, but is it what you _love_?”

Castiel huffed out a remorseful laugh and ground his fingers into his eyes, because the only other person in his life that had ever asked him that was Dean. He looked back to see Ms. Barnes giving him a curious look.

“Not really,” he finally said. “I actually kind of fucking hate religion.”

It wasn’t until Ms. Barnes barked out a loud, short laugh that he realized what he had said.

He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and mumbled out an apology. She just waved it off and patted him on the shoulder. “Trust me, kid, not the worst language this old girl’s ever heard.”

She walked around to the back of her desk and grabbed a flyer out of a manila folder. “Actually,” she continued. “The reason I asked you to hang back was because the campus is having a student’s only art show in July.”

“Oh?” he responded dumbly, grabbing the bright yellow flyer when she passed it to him.

She nodded. “I remember your work from both of my Life Drawing classes, and I was wondering if you’d allow me to submit one of your pieces to the show.”

Castiel’s heart soared. “Which one?”

Ms. Barnes bent behind the desk to rifle through her large portfolio folder where she kept all of her students’ work organized and when she finally found the piece she was looking for, she passed it over to Castiel.

“The Sleeping Boy,” she said.

He almost dropped the sheet as soon as it was in his hands, because the picture she had chosen was his final project from the last semester. It was a large-scale drawing of Dean, asleep, with dark eyelashes fanned over his freckled cheekbones and plush lips parted to breathe. It was the drawing he had started on Valentine’s Day, and instead of throwing it away and starting anew after they broke up, he finished the piece and vowed to himself that afterward, he’d never let himself draw another picture of Dean again.

She must have seen the way his face drooped at the sight of the picture, because she rested a warm hand politely on his shoulder. “You don’t have to say yes if it makes you uncomfortable, but you can have a few days to think about it if you’d like. All entries don’t have to be in for another couple of weeks.”

Castiel swallowed thickly and nodded before handing the picture back to her for safekeeping. “I’ll let you know during my next class with you.”

He waved goodbye to her as she was replacing it back in her portfolio folder and as soon as he was out of the building, he rushed back to his room. Thankfully Gabriel was still out because he wasn’t sure he could handle an audience for what he was about to do.

He sat on the bed and took a few deep breaths before dragging his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through the contacts. He clicked Dean’s name and pushed the _call_ button before he could talk himself out of it. After two rings, he was sure that Dean wouldn’t pick up because he hated him. Three rings and he remembered that Dean might be in class, or with a friend, or…or on a date or something. He had quickly worked himself into a panic and was just about to hang up when the other line finally answered.

“Cas?” he heard Dean say quietly.

“Dean,” he breathed. “You answered.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

Castiel picked at the hem of his shirt and hummed awkwardly into the phone.

“Was there something you needed?” Dean asked, almost cautiously.

“I…yes,” he answered. “M-my professor, my art professor, wants to enter one of my pieces into the campus art show.”

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean said, and he could _hear_ the proud grin in Dean’s voice.

Castiel smiled to himself. “It’s just that, the picture she wants to put in the show is…well, it’s a picture of you.”

He heard Dean inhale sharply over the phone and exhale long and slow. “That so?”

Castiel nodded even though he knew Dean couldn’t see him. “It’s the one I started on V-valentine’s Day. You were asleep.”

“I remember,” Dean whispered in reply.

“I couldn’t let her use it without your permission, Dean. I’d like to know if it’s okay with you.”

Dean chuckled into the phone. “Of course it’s okay, Cas. You’re talented and people should see what you can do. I’m glad your professor recognizes it.”

Castiel could feel his face heating up and his heart thudding against his chest. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean replied quietly. There was a slight awkward silence before he continued. “So, when I saw you a couple of weeks ago at the rally, that guy you were with….is that your, uh, your boyfriend?”

Castiel thought back to the day he saw Dean on the quad. He was rushing to his building with Gabriel. Gabriel, who had grabbed his arm and led him away.

“Oh, no,” he replied quickly. “That was my roommate actually. He…he finally started actually _living_ here.”

“That’s good, I guess. So you guys get along pretty well?”

“Yeah, he’s great. He works at a bakery in town and he works magic with pie,” he said, knowing full well about Dean’s heartfelt relationship with that particular dessert. Talking to him so casually seemed almost wrong, but a strange warmth was settling into his bones. He felt lighter, happier, more satisfied than he had in weeks.

And then Dean said, “I miss you, Cas.”

His breath stopped. “Dean…”

“No, wait,” Dean interrupted. “I’m not trying to mess things up for you, I promise. I just mean that I miss talking to you, okay? When you left…when we, you know…you said we couldn’t be friends because you needed time, right? You’ve had time, Cas, and I get it if you need some more, but I miss you. Please just tell me we can be friends.”

“Yes,” he responded immediately. “I’d like that. I miss you too.”

He heard Dean’s relieved laugh and let out one of his own. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and a dam broken in his throat, because suddenly the goings-on of his life over the last two months were all pouring out of his lips; from meeting Gabriel, to the parties he’d attended, and even his newfound love for marijuana. Dean talked to him about Sam’s graduation and his new classes, and everything seemed normal. They were like real friends and it made Castiel happier than he’d been in a long time, but he still felt that familiar ball of _want_ deep in the pit of his stomach.

They reached a halt in their conversation where neither of them said much. They mostly just breathed into the phone, comforted by the fact that they were finally speaking to one another again after being apart for so long.

“Do you think this will ever get easier?” Dean asked quietly.

“You mean us?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah,” Dean responded. “You think we’ll figure out how to be friends?”

“I think that maybe once we both move on to someone else that it’ll get easier.”

Dean sighed into the phone. “Maybe. I guess I just don’t see myself getting over you anytime soon.”

Castiel curled up into a ball on his bed, his head resting in place over his phone. “Neither do I, really. Everything with you was just so much easier than it was with A—“

Castiel slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening in horror at what he’d almost just admitted. He hoped that Dean didn’t catch his almost-slip-up, but when the line went momentarily silent, he knew he’d been heard.

“Wi-with who?” Dean asked.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the phone. “I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking, Dean, can we just—“

“No,” Dean interrupted. “Cas, it’s okay. You have a different social life now, right? I can’t get upset about you moving on a little faster than me. And we’re friends now, so you should be able to talk to me about anything. You can talk to me about anything.”

Castiel was still unsure, but he relaxed slightly as Dean reassured him. “I suppose.”

“So,” Dean started. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Um,” Castiel started guiltily. “Adam.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “Like, barista Adam?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied in a small voice.

“That’s good,” Dean said. “He, uh, really seemed to like you.”

“Yes, well, like I almost said before, things were much easier with you.”

“How so?” Dean asked.

Castiel sighed. “Adam wasn’t as understanding as you were. I only saw him one time, but it took me so long to recover that I decided never to do it again.”

Dean laughed lightly on the other line. “He a bad date?”

“He’s pushy, and selfish. He was fine during the movies, but after, he just kept insisting he wasn’t a bottom and he wouldn’t listen to me when I said I was in pain. He just told me that everyone’s in pain their first time. He almost left when I told him I didn’t want to bottom and I should have let him. After he left I was tempted to shove an icepack down my pants.”

Dean had grown eerily silent on the other end, not even the sounds of his breathing coming through the phone. When he didn’t say anything, Castiel looked at his screen to make sure he hadn’t hung up. Perhaps he shouldn’t have discussed this with Dean after all. But he hadn’t hung up.

“Dean?”

“He made you bottom?” Dean growled.

Castiel blanched. “Well, he didn’t _make_ me, but he didn’t believe me when I told him that it hurt.”

“And he did it anyway?” Dean asked, his voice low and threatening. “He hurt you.”

“I…I let him, Dean, it’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” Dean repeated, incredulous. “I…Cas, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before Castiel could get in another word, the line went dead. He stared uselessly at his phone for another few seconds before, once again, hurling it against a wall. He was honestly surprised the thing hadn’t broken yet.

Dean didn’t call back that night, nor did he text. When Castiel finally fell into a fitful sleep, he dreamt of Dean, and he woke feeling unrested and groggy. It was his turn to go get coffee that morning, so he skipped the gym and threw on some clothes before making his way over to the Mean Bean. He expected to see Adam’s overly flirtatious greeting-face at the counter, but instead he was met at the register by a redheaded girl named Anna.

After she filled his order for two coffees, he asked, “Where’s Adam this morning? Doesn’t he usually work Thursdays?”

The girl nodded. “Usually. I’m covering for him today so he can rest.”

“Rest? What happened?”

The girl leaned over the counter conspiratorially and looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “Last night, while Adam was working, some crazy guy came into the shop and punched him. No explanation, no nothing; he just walked in, zeroed in on Adam, and _bam!_ Decked him right in his face.”

Castiel almost dropped the coffees he was holding.

_No way._

**~*~July~*~**

 Castiel didn’t hear from Dean again after that phone call. They didn’t see each other on campus and he never called back, not that Castiel had expected him to. Adam no longer sought out Castiel’s attention; whether Dean had threatened him personally or Adam remembered his face from months ago, Castiel didn’t know. Aside from Gabriel, he was alone again. And he didn’t really mind that much.

When the time came, Ms. Barnes asked Castiel to help set up for the Student Art Show. He’d agreed to let his piece be shown, and she even submitted one of his paintings of Medusa from his Spring class to the show as well. He wasn’t going to go to the art show at all, but the first Saturday that it ran he found himself alone in his dorm room, stoned and bored out of his skull, so he made the trek across campus to peruse through other student’s work more closely.

He halted immediately when he turned the corner where his own work was displayed, because standing right in front of his drawing, staring with his hands hanging resolutely by his sides, was Dean. Castiel could only see his profile, but it looked like he was frowning. It was the 21st, and Dean was leaving in three days, so Castiel gathered what courage he had and walked slowly to where Dean was standing. They stood side-by-side in silence, both staring at the picture of Dean’s sleeping form before them.

Dean was the first to break.

“I leave in three days,” he choked out, not even glancing to the side.

Castiel stared straight ahead as well. “I know. Sam told me.”

Finally, Dean turned to him. He felt his eyes boring into the side of his face and he resisted for a moment before turning to Dean as well. They stared at each other, in complete disregard for the hundreds of people moving around them, and finally, Dean smiled. It was a tiny quirk of the lips, but it was genuine, and Castiel couldn’t help but return with a small smile of his own. Simultaneously they both turned back to the picture in front of them, and when Dean’s hand found his, fingers tangling gently around his own, he let himself bask in the _rightness_ of Dean’s palm in his. It was several minutes before Dean stepped away, not saying a word, just detaching himself from Castiel’s hand and going his own way. Castiel recognized it for what it was; a goodbye.

The following Monday, the day before Dean and Sam were set to leave state, Castiel found himself in his advisor’s office. He fought and fought against it for long enough, but with the reality of Dean’s departure sinking down upon him, he decided to finally give in and do something _good_ for himself for once. When the advisor called his name, he marched right up to his desk and announced that he wanted to change his major. With a few well-placed clicks on the computer, Castiel was finally an Art student.

When he got back to his room, there was a large envelope taped to the door with his name on it. He was alone when he entered his dorm, Gabriel still at work. He sat on the bed and opened the envelope, reaching in to grab whatever was inside.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as soon as he drew the item out of the envelope. There, in his palm, was a snapped suede cord attached to a snake charm and two wing charms that were caked with dirt and grime from spending months on the ground the outdoors. Dean had gone back to get Castiel’s necklace before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO MORE CHAPTERS HOLY CRAP.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of wrote this while listening to the piano version of Bruno Mars' "Talking To The Moon" and...well..I made myself sad. So I'd recommend NOT listening to that song while you read this. Or basically any acoustic song. Yeah. Also please don't kill me.

Life without Cas was miserable for Dean. But the closer his and Sam’s moving day came, the easier it was to pretend things were fine without him. Even now, months later, he could still remember the stinging pain he felt in his chest when Cas walked out his door the last time. It was like a Cas-shaped hole had been carved out of his core and left open to fester and die. When Sam had come back that day after getting food, he found Dean slumped on the floor at the end of his bed, with his hands fisted in his hair and his face bright red from the difficulty of keeping in his frustrated screams. After Sam left, he disassembled his phone and left it in his desk for two weeks, and he didn’t leave his bed unless it was to attend classes. His parents had even tried to talk him out of moving after having seen what state he was in, and that was the what finally made him get his ass in gear and at least _try_ to heal; for Sammy’s sake, if nothing else.

Now, though, after everything, it was easy to pretend that things were okay. It had been months, and even though the hurt of losing Cas never went away, it was getting easier and easier to ignore. That is, until Cas had asked his permission to enter a drawing of Dean into the Student Art Show. Hearing Cas’ voice calmed him; after the initial heart-stopping moment when he’d seen Cas’ name flash on his phone screen, as soon as he answered it Cas’ low, cautious voice filled his ears and it was like weeks of stress and fear had melted away from his bones. After a tense few minutes, they actually started speaking like friends, close friends, and it made a happy warmth spread throughout his body for the first time in months. But just as fast as the warm, giddy feelings came, they were gone when Cas mentioned what Adam had done. That smarmy, slimy douchebag had hurt Cas. He knew Cas was in pain and he just kept pushing and pushing and going until Cas could hardly walk afterward. The jealous betrayal he felt at Cas having fucked someone else took a backseat to the blind rage that was coursing through his veins. He mumbled a goodbye to Cas almost immediately after and hung up. He deliberated alone in his room for several minutes before sprinting out to his car. It took him less than five minutes to get to the Mean Bean in the Impala, breaking at least six traffic laws along the way. He parallel parked illegally right in front of the café and waltzed in, praying to whatever deity out there that the piece of shit was working. And someone up in the clouds was looking down on him that day, because the first person he saw when he walked inside was Adam, stacking boxes of tea on a shelf at the back of the shop.

Dean would’ve liked to say that he came to the café with every intention of speaking to Adam like an adult, of telling him to quit hurting Cas, but that just wasn’t true. From the moment Cas told him that Adam had made him bottom, Dean felt a flaming ball of fury build up in his gut that wouldn’t be quelled until his fist connected with Adam’s stupid, arrogant jaw. And that is exactly what he did. He stalked across the café, ignoring the strange looks being pointed at him by patrons, and stopped right in Adam’s personal bubble. The blonde looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak, but before a sound could slip from his mouth, Dean slammed a balled up fist into the side of his face. He threw all of his weight into the punch, and as soon as he struck Adam, the blonde went flying backward and boxes of tea were strewn around the floor as he toppled. One of the female customers behind Dean screamed and another barista was rushing over to Adam and screaming at Dean to get the hell out and never come back. Dean just bared his teeth at a barely-conscious Adam before turning on his heel and leaving. Few things in his life had been more satisfying than that particular moment.

He didn’t talk to Cas again after that, for weeks, thinking that maybe he’d be a little irked when he found out that Dean had gone postal to defend his honor. He had half expected an angry text or call from Cas asking him what the hell he’d been thinking, but it never came. The day he’d hit Adam was the first day since the breakup that he’d even stepped foot into the Mean Bean, having always been afraid that he’d run into Cas.

His moving date was getting closer, and even though they hadn’t talked again since that night on the phone, Dean knew he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. If he didn’t get some semblance of closure, missing Cas would threaten to take over his entire life. He functioned just fine without him; he kept up his grades, he started going out with his friends again, and he’d tricked his family into thinking he was moving on. He didn’t _need_ Cas to survive, but he still _wanted_ him more than anything, so he had to say goodbye. For good. He was tempted to go to Cas’ dorm, but he knew that nothing good would come of it. Either Cas would be out, or he’d be with some guy, or hell, he’d answer the door alone and Dean’s resolve would break. If he saw Cas alone in his dorm he might crumble and crush his lips against Cas’, cry and beg for him to come to California. No, he couldn’t do that. So he went to the art show, hoping Cas would be there.

He wandered around the displays, stopping at the drawing Cas submitted and keeping a sharp eye out for Castiel, but he didn’t seem to be there. Figures, really, that Cas wouldn’t want to see how other people viewed his art. Looking at the finished product before him, Dean truly didn’t understand why Cas would ever be ashamed of what he could do. The picture looked so much like Dean that it actually physically hurt him to look at his own face on the paper. He could tell that each line was drawn with pure focus and love. Love. Cas did love him, even if the only time he’d said it was when he was unconscious in Dean’s car, he did. They were young, and they were stupid, and they were in love. In realizing that, it was like the universe had opened up and given him a second chance, because only seconds later Castiel himself had finally arrived, walking up and standing next to him silently. The quiet was comfortable, both boys looking at the piece of art in front of them that encompassed all the things they both refused to say.

But Dean had to speak. It’s what he’d gone there to do.

“I leave in three days,” he said roughly.

“I know,” Cas responded, an edge in his voice as well. “Sam told me.”

Dean looked at Cas then, turning to see his profile as he stared at his own drawing. Cas’ eyes were tired and his face blankly resigned. Losing Dean had done that to him, and Dean knew that his face was a mirror of Cas’. It took a moment, but Castiel finally turned to Dean as well, looking up into his eyes without shame or hesitation. And they stood there for several minutes, letting the people and scenery around them fade into nothing but blurred shapes. This could have very well been the last time Dean would ever see Cas, and if anything, he was genuinely happy that he got to see him one last time before he left. And so he smiled at Cas. It wasn’t a huge, toothy grin, but a tiny uplifting of his lips, and it was the first time he’d given anyone a real smile in months. And Cas, like he knew exactly how Dean felt, he smiled back. They held each other’s eyes for several seconds before turning back to the picture before them. Dean knew he was greedy, selfish, and needy, but it wasn’t enough. Once Cas smiled at him, he needed more, and so he let his fingers graze Cas’ wrist and travel down to tangle up in Cas’ own fingers. Castiel didn’t flinch, and he didn’t back away, he just lightly squeezed Dean’s hand in his own as they stood still like statues. Their easy acceptance of a future without one another was the best goodbye Dean could possibly have asked for, so after a few moments of lounging in the warmth of Cas’ presence, Dean slid his hand away from Cas, who let him go without a word, and he walked away.

Dean spent the entire next day packing his things. He expected it to be upsetting, but after having said goodbye to Cas, everything else was easy. Most of the things he was taking with him were packed at his parent’s house, and he didn’t have much in his dorm so he was done before it had even gotten dark outside. Instead of lazing around his room like he really wanted to, he allowed Benny to drag him out for pizza and beer as a small last hurrah. He drank two pitchers of beer to himself that night, hoping that it would guarantee him a dreamless sleep. Instead, though, when he drifted off that night he dreamt of the racetrack. He dreamt of driving faster than the speed of sound, with windows down and the wind whipping across his face. He dreamt of the parties, the crowds, the drinking, his friends, but mostly he dreamt of Cas. When he woke up Monday morning, only 24 hours before he was to leave Kansas, he knew where he had to go.

The drive to Junction City was nerve-racking, to say the least. He’d heard from Mitch that after the cops raided the track, it had been on a watch list for local authorities. Twenty-something years without one police mishap, and Crowley brought it all tumbling down by calling the cops one damn time. Even if Cas had taken the bastard out, Dean still hated him with everything he had. He knew it was a huge risk to go back, because the cops could be watching at any time of day, but he had to. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t visit one last time before he left. And so he drove down the familiar dirt road to the once-broken yellow fence that enclosed the narrow road leading to the track. The police, it seems, had taken precautions after their raid and fixed the fence closed with huge, thick metal chains so no cars could pass through. So Dean parked the Impala, hopped the fence, and walked the rest of the way through to the clearing where the track was located. When he finally stood before the track that he’d driven so many times, he grinned. It looked old and unkempt without dedicated racers to take care of it every week like they used to. The painted lines down the middle of the concrete were faded from harsh weather, and decaying leaves and brush from the forest surrounding it were littered across the track, having been blown around in the wild winds of the previous winter.

Sick of standing, Dean kicked and brushed a pile of leaves and grass away from the concrete and sat. He had people that he needed to say goodbye to, like Jo and Ash, but if anything, he was glad he got to say goodbye to this place too, because it was as much a part of him as his friends were. Being a racer had shaped him, and it brought him to Cas. Ironically enough, it also took Cas away from him, if what he’d said before he left Dean’s dorm that day was anything to go by.

The sun was still high in the sky, shining with early afternoon luster and reflecting off the water. But it wasn’t just the water that was shining in response to the bright light in the sky. When Dean looked out across the clearing he saw a small sparkling gleam coming from the grass, likely where someone had dropped money during their rush to leave or a cop popped a button off their uniform during the raid. Curious, he pushed himself back up off the ground and walked over to where the light was reflecting off the mystery object. When he saw what it was, his breath caught in his throat.

Castiel’s necklace.

It was caked in dirt and fragments of dead leaves, but one bare edge of a silver wing charm had caught the light of the sun just right. He picked it up, thumb dragging across the snake pendant to loosen some of the dirt. The suede cord was pretty worse for the wear, thin and broken in several places after having sat on the damp ground for nearly eight months. It had endured layers and layers of snow, pelting rain, harsh winds, and miraculously, it had evaded the sights of all the cops who had done the raid. Dean was surprised he’d found it at all. Seeing the necklace made him happy, because it reminded him of how great things had been when he gave it to Cas and why. He bought it because he wanted Cas to know that he was a good boyfriend, that he listened, that he cared what he had to say, and most of all he wanted Cas to know that he loved him. His only mistake was not having told him out loud. If he had, maybe things would be different.

He wasn’t planning on leaving the track so soon, but now with necklace in hand, Dean felt a desperate urge to get back to Lawrence and give it back to its rightful owner. He wiped his thumb across the surface of the pendants a few more times to get off the bulk of the dirt and then started the long walk back to the car. The ride back to Lawrence was slow, and when he’d tried to turn the radio on to ease his mood, the first radio station that had come up on shuffle was playing a familiar song. The same song that was playing when Castiel had made Dean drunkenly dance with him at Benny’s party. So he slapped the power button off and that was that for the duration of the trip. The long, quiet, tense trip.

When he got back to the university, he immediately went back into his dorm and shuffled through Chuck’s desk. His roommate sent things out to publishers all the time, hoping to get someone who was interested in his writing, so he knew that the guy had a shit ton of envelopes in his desk. Dean wanted nothing more than to restring the pendants and give it back to Cas himself, but he still felt so uncontrollable like he did the day of the art show. If he was alone with Cas, he might break. It was cowardly and shitty, but he walked across campus to Cas’ dorm and silently taped the envelope with the necklace inside to Cas’ door and walked away. He thought that would be the last of it, but he was very, very wrong.

The sky was just beginning to darken outside when a sharp rapping came at the door and Dean frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone and Chuck, who was supposed to be at Becky’s parents’ place in Nebraska for a week, always had his key. When he opened the door he was confronted by Cas. A very angry Cas, who pushed Dean aside and marched right into his room with a quick look around, probably seeing if Chuck was there.

“Cas, wha—“ Dean started.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cas interrupted, his voice harsh. He was angry, but Dean could tell by the quivering of his lips that it wasn’t just anger Cas was feeling, but sadness too. Before Dean could ask what he meant, Cas continued. “You went back even though you knew the cops started watching that place. For a necklace, Dean, really? I mean, we’re not even…we’re not even together anymore and you could’ve gotten into real trouble.”

Dean shut the door finally and took a step toward Cas. “I didn’t go back for the necklace, Cas,” he started. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Castiel actually looked sort of disappointed about that. His shoulders actually sagged and his face fell. “I went back to…I don’t know, say goodbye. I just wanted to see the track one last time before I left. I found it by accident and I had to give it back to you.”

Cas tensed again. “Why?”

“Because it belongs to you,” Dean answered simply. “It’s yours.”

Castiel looked down at his feet, shuffling them for a moment before reaching into his pocket and drawing out the mangled necklace. It had been cleaned and polished, but the cord was still snapped.

“I…I was heartbroken when I lost this,” Cas whispered. Dean took a cautious step forward. “It’s so simple, but it’s perfect and I love it. God knows why, but I love it.”

A few more silent steps further and Dean took the hand holding the necklace in both of his hands. He looked at Cas, whose eyes were zeroed in on his hand in Dean’s, and responded. “Because you love me.”

Cas’ eyes snapped up to his, growing wide and fearful even as he nodded, agreeing with Dean’s statement. It was tearing Dean apart to see the terror etched on Cas’ face now that his biggest secret, the one he’d tried so hard to conceal, was revealed. He was right about Cas loving him, but he knew that wasn’t what scared him. What scared Cas now, was that he didn’t know if Dean loved him back.

Dean’s eyes roamed Cas’ face for a moment before moving his hands up to cup his neck. He pushed his forehead against Cas’, locking eyes with him and sharing breath. “Me too,” he said, his voice verging on inaudible. “Me too, Cas, I love you. You have to know that I love you.”

Cas’ eyes squeezed shut and one hand fisted in the front of Dean’s shirt. “Dean…”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed. “I fucking do. I love you so much and I should have said it the first time I ever even thought it. You talk in your sleep, you know.”

“I do?” Cas asked quietly, eyes still shut.

“You do,” Dean repeated. “You told me you loved me in the car, on your birthday, when you were sleeping.”

Cas pulled back, looking ashamed, “Oh, God, I’m so sorr—“

Dean cut him off by crushing his lips against Cas’. It was harsh, bruising, and completely perfect. The feeling of Castiel’s lips against his centered him in a way he couldn’t explain. For a split second, Cas froze and Dean was afraid that he was going to push him away, but after a few seconds both of Cas’ hands gripped tightly to his biceps, fingers squeezing desperately and nails digging painfully into his skin. They kissed until there was no oxygen left in their lungs, only stopping for a split second to inhale heavily and then dive back in.

Dean hadn’t even realized they were moving until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He fell back, ungracefully, with Cas falling on top of him in a pile of limbs. There was no finesse in the way they jerked themselves back onto the bed, ripping and tearing at each other’s clothes like having them on was personally offensive. What was happening was so wrong, wrong because they both knew how long it had taken them to get past this, but so right because when they were together things made sense. Dean reveled in the feel of Cas’ hands on his skin after so long, leaving a path of sparks tingling from the tips of his toes to the creases in his forehead. The heaviness of their breathing and panicked, desperate moans were the only noises floating through the air, and when each was finally bared to the other the urgency faded. Their eyes traveled, memorizing parts of one another that they’d both thought were lost to them forever, and when their eyes met again it was like magnetism. They leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a small kiss, chaste compared to the wild tangling of tongues that had led up to that moment.

Cas covered Dean’s body with his own, connecting their skin from thigh to chest and setting Dean’s mind ablaze. Instead of going back for Dean’s mouth, Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck, sucking a series of small kisses to the sensitive skin behind his ear and at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. With a flailing hand, Dean rooted around in his bedside table for everything they’d need, tossing the lube and a condom beside the pillow. Cas kept up his ministrations at Dean’s shoulder, making Dean’s eyes feel like they were rolling around in the sockets, and he moved one quick hand to grab at the lube Dean had placed on the bed. After quickly slicking up his first two fingers, Cas dragged his fingers in a slippery line down Dean’s body until he reached his goal. Dean hadn’t been touched there in months, not even by himself, having been too deep in a pit of misery to even think about fucking himself. He’d jerked off, obviously, because he was twenty-one years old and cutting himself off from masturbation cold turkey could probably actually kill him, but each orgasm he’d given to himself over the last four months had been quick, precise, and full of resentment. Having Cas’ fingers rubbing slow circles into the tight ring of muscle was electric, breathtaking, and impossibly grounding. In seconds Cas was slipping the tip of his finger inside, testing the relaxation of his muscles and pushing in further when Dean let an approving groan slip from his lips. The prep went quickly after that, Dean’s body opening up easily for Cas because being with Cas was like being home. One finger turned into two, and then three, and then just because Cas was a dirty, filthy tease, three became a four-finger assault on his prostate while Cas jerked him roughly. Dean was a mess, writhing and squirming on the bed while the muscles in his legs trembled and his hands scrabbled for purchase on Cas’ knees where they lay beneath Dean’s spread legs. Cas seemed to know that he was teetering on the edge, because just before he was sure he’d explode, Cas removed his fingers and gave a gentle squeeze at the base of Dean’s cock to stave off orgasm.

Dean whined, a high-pitched keening sound expelling from his throat, and Cas reached for the lube again along with the condom. He spread a bit more just around Dean’s opening, with light touches that made Dean shake, and then he stared down at the condom in his hand. When he didn’t hear the ripping of the foil packet, Dean let his eyes focus on Cas as he stared down at the thing with a slight frown. He tapped the package against his fingers once before looking at Dean with questioning eyes. It took him a second, but when Dean saw Cas toss the condom back to the side of the bed he understood. Cas looked back at him and Dean nodded. No condom, just skin. With shaking hands, Cas uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount into his palm to slick up his cock. When he was thoroughly coated, he wiped his hands on the bedsheet and used them to further part Dean’s thighs and guide himself inside Dean’s body. The first breach jolted both boys, a whimper and a groan mixing in the air between them. The slide of skin on skin with no latex barrier was so different, so unreal, but so perfect and hot, and Dean was already on edge again knowing that Cas was inside of him with nothing in between. Once he was fully seated inside, Cas leaned forward bracketing his arms on either side of Dean’s head and Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’ waist. They were undulating together, lips touching, but barely, and each slow grind into each other’s body drew moans from their lips. Loud smacks of their lips echoed in the air and Dean let his hands roam every inch of Cas’ skin, sure this would be his last chance to touch. Cas’ breathing was becoming erratic and his thrusts less smooth and calculated, their kisses were messier and more teeth than tongue. Dean came first, tumbling over the edge when Cas leaned forward and nipped at his earlobe. But Cas came barreling after him, orgasm hitting him full force when Dean clenched around him and dug his hands roughly into Cas’ hair.  He felt Cas empty inside of him, the warmth spreading throughout his body.

They should get up and shower or clean up somehow, but as soon as Cas’ cock slipped out of him, he collapsed on top of Dean and wound his arms around his neck. They rolled over so they were face-to-face on their sides, limbs tangled and refusing to let go. His heart was going mad and he could feel a similar beat pounding out from Cas’ chest that was pressed up against him, but eventually they slowed and Cas’ limbs became not-so-tight. He was teetering on the edge of sleep, and judging by the way Cas was nuzzling up against the side of his face, Dean had about a sixty second window before Cas was passed out to say something if he so desired.

 _I love you, Cas,_ he didn’t say. Cas already knew. He was leaving tomorrow and the words would do no good now. So when Cas’ breath evened out, and the sound of soft snores reverberated through Dean’s ears where Cas lay at his side, Dean let himself be pulled under as well.

When he woke in the morning, Cas was gone, and in three hours he would be too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER (the epilogue) TO GO AND WE WILL BE DONE. WHATS GONNA HAPPEN? WHO KNOOOOOOOWS.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY.

**Epilogue**

 

Leaving Kansas the morning after he and Cas spent one last night together was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but when he woke up to find Castiel gone from his bed, he knew it was the end. They’d fallen in love so quickly, and completely by accident, and that was what had inevitably doomed them. When they had first broken up, everything hurt, but even though leaving was tough, Dean felt lighter and more at peace than he had in months. Now Castiel knew that Dean loved him, Dean knew Castiel loved him too, and that was enough; it was better closure than he ever could have asked for.

Dean was in California for five months before he had the balls to speak to Cas again, and even then it wasn’t much of a conversation. It was simple text message on November 25th, saying Happy Birthday. Cas responded with a simple thank you and nothing else. Their first few months in California, Dean went to classes at a local community college, went to work at an autoparts store up the road from his and Sam’s apartment, and went home, never making much of a life for himself. He thought by keeping busy, he’d eventually move on, but he didn’t. There was still a huge, gaping, Cas-shaped hole gouged into his chest that throbbed and ached with every inhalation of California air. He hated it there; the warmth, the sun, the people, the vibrancy, everything. It was like the entire state of California was mocking him for having left Cas behind. But he never showed it in front of Sam, he put on a happy face and buried himself in school and work. But Sam, ever the instinctive little brother, he knew.

It was Christmas, only a month after he’d sent Castiel a birthday text, and their first Christmas away from Kansas. Their parents flew out to California and they decorated his and Sam’s tiny two-bedroom apartment for the holidays. It was perfect, until dinner when Sam and his parents tried to give him an out. He thought he’d been hiding his sadness so well, but of course Sam knew it was bullshit. Sam and his parents told him that it would be okay for him to come back to Kansas, that it was fine if California wasn’t the life for him, and of course, that his happiness was more important than anything. And they asked him to come back home. He had a chance to go back, and he said he’d think about it. A month later, on Dean’s 22nd birthday, Castiel sent him a similar birthday wish via text message, Dean thanked him, and that was that. It was short, to the point, and so eerily distant that Dean knew what he had to do. He’d gotten closure as a couple months before, but now, now he knew there was no hope for a friendship either. He and Castiel were too far gone on each other for anything else to work, and when their relationship fell apart, so did their chances at being friends. So he did what he had to do, and he deleted Cas’ number. Finally. He told his parents and Sam that he was staying in California, and once he finally let go, little by little the pieces fell into place.

He had two semesters left before graduating with a Bachelor’s degree, and instead of keeping to himself at work, he allowed himself to finally make friends. He took Sam out to a club on his eighteenth birthday, and dragged his drunk ass home when he somehow convinced the bartender that he was old enough to drink (Dean’s convinced it was his height…). The wound in him, the Cas-shaped hole, it never went away; but it did get filled with other things. Like new friends, bar nights, graduation, promotions, and new family when Sam announced that he was proposing to Jessica on the one year anniversary of their move to California.

And suddenly, 365 days later, he was healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU ALL DECIDE THAT YOU WANT TO HURT/KILL/TORTURE ME FOR THIS ENDING, LET ME JUST TELL YOU THAT SURPRIIIIIISE.....THERES A SEQUEL! :D (to be started in October after midterms!)


End file.
